


Can We Please Not Talk About Halloween?

by akikotree



Series: San Francisco Dance AU [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Friendship, Halloween, M/M, Modern AU, OT5 Friendship, RPF, San Francisco Bay Area, hazlou, lourry, real person fic, san francisco dance au, ziam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:08:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akikotree/pseuds/akikotree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You are paying for parking,” Liam informed Zayn. “Since you talked me into this.” He stabbed at the ticket button and received his ticket. It was only $2.50 an hour until 6pm, but Liam needed to stick to his principles on this one. He couldn't believe he was actually cutting the whole afternoon of classes to take Zayn to a comic book shop and a thrift store. What had been the logic behind that again? It must have been convincing because here they were. </p><p>Part three of the San Francisco Dance AU. Liam, Zayn, Harry, Niall and Louis all attend a modern ballet dance school in San Francisco, and Harry has plans for Halloween. This story takes place chronologically before the other two stories in the series- before Niall hurt his knee, before Louis left, before Liam confessed his feelings- before everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Can We Please Not Talk About Halloween?

“It's right there, it's right there!” said Zayn. He was pointing out of the car window past Liam's head. Liam was trying not to run over the three bicyclists and two skateboarders making their way down 20th Street ahead of him so he only caught one glimpse of the glowing Superman logo in the shop's window. 

“I knew you should have taken that last spot, there's nothing else on this block,” said Zayn. 

“It has half yellow,” said Liam. “I can't afford a parking ticket right now!” 

“Well, turn right on Mission up here, I think there's a garage on the next street over,” Zayn directed. 

Liam took a right and then another right, driving cautiously. People in this part of San Francisco apparently thought nothing of walking their pit bulls causally across four lanes of traffic while talking on their cellphones. This whole area was full of crowded bus stops, graffiti art galleries, Mexican restaurants, and weird shops that sold handmade clothes or raku fired mugs and glass pipes. At 3pm in the afternoon on a Friday there were pedestrians everywhere. 

“Mission-Bartlett garage, just there,” said Zayn, pointing. 

“Where?” said Liam. The trees that lined the streets in the Mission were still thick with leaves; it had been a very warm October and aside from the pumpkin spice lattes in Starbucks the city had yet to show any noticeable signs of autumn. Liam didn't see anything that looked like a parking garage. 

“It's that yellowish building with the mural on it,” said Zayn. There is was.

“You are paying for parking,” Liam informed Zayn. “Since you talked me into this.” He stabbed at the ticket button and received his ticket. It was only $2.50 an hour until 6pm, but Liam needed to stick to his principles on this one. He couldn't believe he was actually cutting the whole afternoon of classes to take Zayn to a comic book shop and a thrift store. What had been the logic behind that again? It must have been convincing because here they were. Liam locked the car and they crossed the street, heading down a little one way alley. 

“This going to be way better than dance history, admit it,” said Zayn. “We should cut every week, I hate the theory classes.” 

“I don't mind them,” said Liam. “Look!” he nodded across the street. There was a black cat lying across the painted front step of one of the narrow Victorian houses. A long string of black and orange flags hung over the doorway. 

“Decorating for Halloween!” said Zayn, happily. “Oh wait...” he looked more closely. “Those are Giants flags.” 

“Probably have them up all year then,” said Liam. This city was crazy about baseball. Liam hadn't realized anyone actually cared about the sport until he moved here. 

“That house has a pumpkin,” said Zayn. “That's something.” 

They crossed the next street and headed past the Superman logo into Mission Comics. Zayn made a beeline for the monthly issues shelves but Liam hung back, glancing around. Zayn had taken him to Isotope Comics in the second week of the semester, right after he discovered that Liam also liked comics. But this was Liam's first time in Mission Comics. His regular comics store was the one in downtown San Rafael, Blue Moon. 

This store had a rectangular front room with the desk and cash register at the back left. On the right was a wide passage lined with book shelves on either side. This opened up into a single room art gallery in the back. The front room was also lined with bookshelves on both sides- Marvel and DC trades on the left, smaller publishers on the right and new releases on the island of tables and half height shelves in the center. Liam also noticed a few sections with themes: kid's comics, staff picks, LGBTQ comics, Eisner winners. David Bowie's _Changes_ album was playing from behind the desk. 

Liam drifted towards the new releases table. It was full of names, some indie, some mainstream- JH Williams, Brandon Graham, Carla Speed McNeil, Warren Ellis, Eleanor Davis, Jillian Tamaki, Grant Morrison. Liam spotted an author he recognized and picked up a small format full color book called _Battling Boy._ The cover showed a blond kid stomping on the head of an enormous bat-faced monster. Liam flipped open to read the first few pages. A group of kids playing footie in a dirty city street- the ball went bouncing down an alley. One boy in a striped shirt reluctantly went after it. A sputtering light blinked on on a lamp post- the boy's friends urged him to hurry, curfew was coming. Just as the boy scooped up the ball, muttering over his friend's warnings, a dark shadow fell across his face... a creature in a tattered black hood, its thin legs wrapped in bandages, its crooked gray hands holding a long knife, was perched above the boy on a telephone line. The ball fell from the boy's arms and he sprinted back down the alley with the ragged monster leaping after him. The digital colors of the book were bright almost cheerful- somewhat at odds with the heavily inky line work.

“Oh, Paul Pope, I've been meaning to read that,” said Zayn. He had come by Liam's elbow, already holding an arm load of single issues. 

“Yeah, I liked his Batman stuff,” said Liam. 

“His are good, up there with Frank Millar's,” said Zayn. He tugged on Liam's arm. “Come look at this art in the back, it's really weird.” Liam set the book down and let himself be lead. 

“What do you think of that?” Zayn asked, pointing to a long fabric scroll which hung along the whole back wall of the gallery space. Liam stepped closer. It had been printed, or possibly painted, in a distinctly Japanese wood block style- tons of small characters moved around one continuous scene. There were twisted pine trees and twisted clouds in the upper half, while the lower half showed a maze of tunnels beneath the ground. There were also speech bubbles filled with small but readable text- Liam started reading them at random, then realized there was a story that started at one end. He tried starting at the beginning but that didn't actually make it any less confusing. 

“Did you read the whole thing?” Liam asked. “What's it about?” 

“Some sci-fi thing,” said Zayn. “Sort of cool but hard to tell which order to read the speech bubbles.” 

“Yeah,” said Liam. He looked around the little gallery- other pieces, paintings in a similarly dense and obscure style, filled the rest of the space. “Is this stuff always up or does it change?” 

“Last time I came in it was a Sandman show, a bunch of different artists, that stuff was really good,” said Zayn. 

“I bet,” said Liam. “Sorry I missed it. You have everything you want?” 

“For now,” said Zayn, with a slightly crooked smile. 

They headed up to the front and Zayn handed his stack to the guy behind the desk. The comic shop guy had dark hair, gauges in both ears and some kind of choker necklace with a metal pendant hanging from it. Another guy, who looked like a friend rather than another employee, was slouching in a second chair. That guy was wearing a loose T-shirt and flat bill cap- kind of Suffer Dude/Bro in contrast with the Hipster/Burning Man look of gauges-and-necklace. 

“You got some good stuff here,” said Gauges, flipping through Zayn's pile as he ring them up: Batman, Spiderman, Avengers and X-men: Axis, Moon Knight, Ms Marvel, Loki: Agent of Asgard and Saga. 

“Thanks,” said Zayn. “Hey, I was wondering, how do you pick the artists for the shows in the back?” 

“They're usually local people,” said Gauges. “I think they're mostly people the store owner knows personally. You'd have to talk to him.” 

“Yeah, talk to the owner,” said the Bro. 

“The guy who's always putting out the new stuff on Wednesdays?” Zayn asked, taking back his pile of comics. 

“Yep, that's him,” said Gauges. Then (because apparently they were having a full blown conversation now) he asked, “You doing anything tonight for Halloween?” His eyes swept Zayn up and down in a look that completely ignored Liam. Liam, who was in fact standing right next to Zayn, scowled. 

“I think we're going to try Castro street,” said Zayn. 

“Ah, that's classic,” said Gauges, his eyes getting even a little more interested at the mention of San Francisco's most famous gay neighborhood. “Everyone dresses up in the Castro, the whole street is a party.” 

“It can get really crazy,” added Bro. 

_“We've heard,”_ said Liam. 

“So ah- which bar do you think you'll be at?” Gauges asked. That sounded like a pretty blatant pick up line to Liam, but Zayn answered as if unaware. 

“What's the one that does the really big costume contest, it's been advertized on all the telephone poles?” Zayn asked. 

“Stud?” suggested Gauges. “Or Chameleon?” 

“Yeah, Chameleon,” said Zayn. 

Liam wanted to kick him. _Why did you just tell him that,_ he thought furiously. _He's totally undressing you with his eyes. And he's wearing horrible jewelry._

“Alright, cool,” said Gauges. “Thanks for stopping by the shop.” Bro smirked at his friend a little. 

“Yep, see ya,” said Zayn, and he turned to go, apparently oblivious. 

Liam followed Zayn out of the store in a much worse mood than when he'd entered. Liam had known Zayn for over two months now, since the start of the fall semester. By the end of the first week they (and Harry, Niall and Louis) had become friends. They all hung out outside of school- Liam staying late in the city, or coming in on the weekends, whenever he could. This was the one thing that Liam had discovered that he didn't like about going places with Zayn: he got hit on everywhere, _all the time._ By men; by women; by people of indeterminate gender... didn't seem to matter. It's not that Liam blamed them for it... he could see why... but he still hated it. He just wished that Zayn was a little more _aware_ of the reactions he caused and looked out for himself better. Liam often felt the need to protect Zayn from the world. He rarely felt genuinely unsafe in San Francisco but it was a big city with its share of unpleasant people. And tonight, for some reason, they were all supposed to be going out into one of the craziest neighborhoods on the second biggest party night of the year after Pride. 

“Why are we even going to a bar tonight? None of us can order a drink in this county,” Liam complained. 

They were heading back through the one-way street, walking on the other side this time. The cat was gone but Liam noticed a few scribbly kid's drawings done in chalk on the sidewalk. 

“Costume contest,” Zayn reminded him. “Harry's obsessed. Apparently there's actual prize money and he wants to win. He's making Louis dress up with him and he keeps going on about how their costumes are 'the perfect idea for San Francisco'.” Zayn rolled his eyes. 

“I'm surprised Louis agreed to that,” said Liam as they headed into the garage. Zayn paid for the parking in cash and they found the car. 

“Turn right,” said Zayn. “Just head straight til we get to Folsom.” 

“Okay,” said Liam. He waited for two motorcycles to pass, then pulled back out onto the street. 

“So... are they actually a couple now- Harry and Louis?” Liam asked as they waited for the light at South Van Ness. 

“Considering Louis has stayed over at our apartment three times this week already, I would say yes,” said Zayn. “He should just move out of the dorms and start helping us pay rent. But they're trying to keep it kind of quiet at school though.” 

“Secret?” asked Liam, frowning. There was hardly any need to be secret in the liberal Bay Area. They didn't have parents or siblings looking over their shoulders either. 

“Not secret, just quiet,” said Zayn. “I think they want to avoid some of the teasing other people got for hooking up right off...” 

“Hmm,” said Liam. He didn't understand how people managed to get themselves into relationships _so quickly._ In Liam's limited experience, the beginning of a relationship was a slow process. He liked being friends first. 

“Left,” said Zayn, pointing. Liam waited for a break in the oncoming traffic and turned onto Folsom. “We're looking for Out of the Closet.” 

“What?” said Liam, not sure he'd heard correctly. 

“Out of the Closet. It's the name of the thrift store,” said Zayn. 

“What did you do, type 'gayest thrift shop in SF' into Google?” Liam asked.

 _“No,”_ said Zayn. “I looked up Yelp reviews. It's part of a local chain- I guess they raise money to do free HIV testing or something.” 

“Bit different than the Salvation Army,” Liam commented dryly. 

“A bit,” laughed Zayn. 

Liam watched the strange juxtaposition of San Francisco slide past. There was a school with an iron barred gate, all of its windows covered in heavy wire mesh. There was a flop house with broken windows, half boarded up and trailing ripped caution tape. An industrial carpet warehouse. An auto repair shop covered in bright paintings of hibiscus flowers. A health food store, flanked by a night club and a tattoo parlor. They drove past a group of REI tents set up right on the sidewalk, people stretched out beside them on sleeping bags or piles of cardboard. A mixed race couple pushed a stroller past a homeless man in a wheelchair as if they didn't even see him. There was a gay couple holding hands, and a straight couple carrying matching yoga mats. There were art students with mohawks waiting in line at the bus stop beside business men wearing suits and tiny Asian grandmothers holding bags of groceries. 

“Okay, start looking for parking, I think we're nearly here,” said Zayn. 

“It is, by chance, that hot pink building on the corner?” Liam asked. 

“Ah- yeah, I think that's it,” said Zayn. 

The lanes on the street here were really weird. There was the usual dashed white line between the lanes, and solid white at the curbs, like Liam had seen everywhere during the past year of driving in the States. But there was also this solid green lane on the right between his lane and the line of parked cars- what was that for? Were you allowed to drive through it? Did he have to wait for the cross street, or... 

“You just drove past like four parking spots,” Zayn exclaimed, exasperated. “What are you doing?” 

“Calm _down,_ we're not in a hurry, and I don't want to get pulled over,” said Liam. He'd noticed a lot of cop cars in the area, way more than he was used to seeing in the more upscale areas around school or Pine Street. He watched carefully as someone in front of him pulled causally across the green lane and into a spot. Okay, so that was legal, it seemed. They'd passed 8th Street before Liam found a place he was comfortable with- the thrift store was behind them at the corner of Folsom and 9th. 

Zayn rolled his eyes as Liam double checked that all the doors were locked. The sign said free two hour parking until 6pm on weekdays. 

“We'll be out of here before half five, right?” Liam asked. 

“I hope so. We're supposed to met Harry, Louis and Niall back at the apartment by six,” said Zayn. 

They walked south down Folsom, waited for the light at 8th and crossed. They were headed towards an imposing four story building painted solid black, sporting none of the brightly colored or cheerfully vulgar graffiti common here. It had huge glass windows on both sides of the corner- Liam glanced at it in passing and was startled into an exaggerated double-take. The plastic male mannequin directly at his eye level was sporting a leash, spiked chain thong and a rope bondage top. Next to it was a female mannequin in a skimpy leather corset and a strap on. 

“What the...?” Liam muttered. He looked upward to read the words painted above the windows. _Leather, Etc, Factory Outlet,_ they proclaimed. The rest of the window display held a truly impressive collection of collars, whips, paddles and ball gags- all nestled amidst bright seasonal pumpkins and artfully arranged fall leaves. 

“Huh,” said Zayn. “Kinky. Wonder if Harry knows about this place?” 

“Would he be _interested?”_ asked Liam, surprised. They had drawn level with the door- it was open but covered with a retractable metal gate. A small sign read 'ring bell for admittance'. 

“He might be,” said Zayn. 

“Hmm,” said Liam, uncertainly. This was way outside his comfort zone, but Zayn didn't seem bothered. 

They passed by a huge group of overdressed twenty-somethings on their smart phones, all clustered around the door of the newest pop-up restaurant and waiting for their turn to be seated. They walked by a media consulting agency and a tiny ironmongers workshop, looking like something left over from a bygone era. Digital printing, Indian food... and there was the large, bright, two story pink building again on the corner. The trim was turquoise. The combination was eye-watering. 

“So, what kind of costume are you looking for?” Liam asked. 

“I don't know,” said Zayn. “I was just planning to poke around and see what we find. D'you have something in mind?” 

“No,” said Liam. It had been a long time since Liam had had a costume for Halloween. He had not bothered last year... he hadn't really had any friends in California yet. Even his friends back home had all stopped dressing up years ago. He wouldn't be this year either if Harry hadn't gotten this bee in his bonnet about the costume contest and if Zayn hadn't insisted they play along. 

Zayn and Liam headed into Out of the Closet and looked around. Given the gaudiness of the exterior, Liam had been expecting something flashy- some big Halloween displays, racks of interesting costumes right by the door for them to peruse, something like that. He was immediately disappointed. It looked like a completely average, even boring, thrift store. Racks of men's jeans, t-shirts and winter coats fill the majority of the first floor. There was a scattering of worn and crooked furniture around the edges of the room, dirty sports equipment, chipped plates and bent kitchen utensils. Nothing that looked like a Halloween costume. 

“We could look upstairs,” said Zayn, though he did not sound very hopeful. The signs by the stairs read _Books_ and _Ladies_ with an arrow pointing upwards. The books were immediately apparent- the whole wall across from the top of the stairs was lined with bookshelves, almost floor to ceiling. To the right they saw what passed for the store's Halloween display at last. It was scant and sad- a few ragged black witch dresses, various parts of a clown costume- spotted pants, striped suspenders- some bright tie dye shirts- nothing of interest. On the left was the women's clothes, racks of blouses, skirts, jeans, sweaters, scarves. It mostly looked like the kind of stuff someone might sort through when dressing for a job interview. Zayn drifted a little way towards them, plucking at the sleeve of one silky shirt, before turning away. 

“Well, this was a bust,” he said to Liam. “Where should we try next?” 

“I'll check online, see if there are any other places in the area,” Liam followed Zayn back down the stairs, pulling out his phone and fishing for service. It was better outside. 

_Thrift stores near Folsom, San Francisco_ Liam typed into Google. Zayn started heading back the way they had come, and Liam followed, more slowly. 

“There's one on Mission, and another on Valencia,” he noted. “About halfway between here and Dolores Park...” 

“Hey look,” said Zayn. He was pointing at something. Liam looked up. There was a sign on a sandwich board on the sidewalk, right in front of them. They must have walked right past it coming the other way. The sign read _Costumes! Hundreds of masks, capes, wigs, outfits, accessories! Upstairs!_ Looking up Liam saw another sign hanging over the sidewalk: Fantasy Clothing Company. They must have missed it because it had no street level store front- the arrow on the sandwich board merely directed them towards a flight of stairs packed in between Metro Floors on the left and Piston and Chain on the right. 

“Let's check it out!” said Zayn, enthusiastically. Liam hung back. 

“But what if...” Liam started. The memory of Leather, Etc was fresh in his mind. The combination of a lack of store window and the name Fantasy Clothing was making him highly suspicious. He wasn't sure he wanted to know what was up there. 

“What if what?” asked Zayn, already five steps up. 

“What if it's like... weird kinky sex costumes?” Liam winced as the words left his mouth. He sounded like a twelve-year-old. 

“I don't think that's what it is,” laughed Zayn. “But we won't know unless we look.” And with that he trotted up the stairs. Liam braced himself and followed. 

This time, Liam was pleasantly surprised. The stairs turned a corner and lead to a tiny second floor shop packed with costumes. Sequins, ribbons, feathers, lace, fake fur, satin and velvet vied for space on every rack. This is what they had been looking for. One wall was covered in masks, another in hats. A counter running along one side displayed fake nails, fake eye lashes, fake blood, lipstick, glitter and every other kind of make up. 

“Ah, yeah,” said Zayn. “They have _everything_ here!” He stopped at one round rack with a label reading _Historical._ It was arranged chronologically- beginning with Egyptian wraps and Greek togas, Roman gladiator costumes, Medieval dresses, Elizabethan ruffs, Victorian smoking jackets. Liam flipped through a fantasy rack- there were capes of ever color, dresses that looked straight out of _Lord of the Rings,_ sets of wings, harem pants, bodices, embroidered vests. Liam raised his eyebrows over the prices. They wanted close to a hundred dollars for most of these things. Maybe he wasn't getting dressed up after all- there was no way he'd spend that kind of money. 

“Hi, do you need any help?” asked a very short shop girl with black pony tails and red lipstick. 

“Oh, no thanks, just looking,” said Liam quickly. 

“Well, let me know,” she said and hurried off to help a couple who had just come in asking for 1920s era jazz outfits. Liam did a circuit of the place, noting the tiny curtained changing room in the center and the case of props- pocket watches, beaded handbags, bow ties, pipes, cravats, monocles and the like. Way back in one corner tucked away as if the shop frowned upon such things was a rack of much cheaper costumes, the kind that came in plastic bags with a cheesy picture on front. These costumes offered a standard outfit of various professions for men (firefighter, doctor, wizard) and a skimpy tutu version for women (slutty firefighter, slutty nurse, slutty witch). Liam flipped through some of them, then moved on. The shop was not very big- maybe twenty feet wide and thirty feet long, if that- but he and Zayn were not only ones browsing. Three guys who looked kind of like frat brothers were all standing together near the wall of masks. 

“Maybe we should all be zebras,” the middle one suggested to the others. 

“Dude, we can't be _zebras,”_ said the second one. “We're trying to pick up chicks!”

“What about lions?” said the third one. 

“Maybe lions,” conceded the one who had rejected zebras. 

Liam snorted and looked around for Zayn. He was standing by the wall of hats and wigs, spinning a rack of fake glasses and costume jewelry. Liam went over to join him.

“Have you find anything?” Liam asked him. 

“I found a Batman costume,” said Zayn. He pulled a pair of rhinestone-encrusted Elton John sunglasses off the rack leaned over to put them on Liam. Liam squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to get poked in the eyeball. He felt the glasses slide onto his nose- when he opened his eyes again his view was suddenly and literally rose tinted. 

“I thought you could be the Joker or something,” Zayn added. 

Liam leaned over to select a pair of horn rimmed glasses to put on Zayn. “I don't think I'd want to be the Joker, I wouldn't want to wear all the face paint,” he said. 

“You could have been Two-Face instead,” said Zayn, adjusting the horn rims. “No, that would also be a lot face paint... Anyway, the Batman one was two hundred and fifty so... not getting that.” He picked up a tall Mad Hatter top hat and placed it on Liam's head to admire the effect. Liam responded by picking up a long dark brown wig and plopping it on Zayn's head. The fake curls fell half way down his back. Liam expected Zayn to laugh and take it right off again, but instead Zayn pulled it around so the front was forward and tugged it onto his head. He brushed the tangled strands of plastic hair away from his face. 

“What do I look like?” he asked, pouting and inexpertly batting his eye lashes. 

“Maybe like a... sexy librarian?” said Liam, thinking of the cheap costumes he had just seen. “Or- a secretary?” 

“You think I'm _sexy?”_ crowed Zayn. “HA!” 

“You look like a nerd, wear these instead!” said Liam, grabbing a pair of coke bottle nerd glasses from the rack. 

“Says the man who currently looks like the love child of Willy Wonka and Elton John,” said Zayn, refusing to relinquish his horn rims. Suddenly his eyes widened. “Dude, that should be my costume! How much is this wig?” Zayn pulled it off and turned it over, looking for a piece tag. Liam stopped trying to snatch the glasses of his face. 

“Willy Wonka...?” asked Liam, uncertain of where the wig fit in. 

_“No,”_ said Zayn. “Sexy librarian.” He found a sticker inside the wig. “Twenty dollars. That's what- twelve pounds, thirteen pounds? I'd pay that. How much are the glasses?” 

Liam glanced over at the rack. “Says they're five dollars each. But...” 

“No, it's perfect, don't you see?” said Zayn excitedly. Liam did not see. 

“Cause I'd only have to buy just these two things,” Zayn explained. “Then we could go back to that thrift store and get everything else! Way cheaper than buying a whole costume in this place.” 

“Uh- I guess so,” said Liam. He was having a hard time picturing... whatever it was Zayn was picturing. He took off his sunglasses and top hat and put them back where they'd come from. 

“Well, I'm set,” said Zayn happily. “We just need to find something for you to wear.” 

“Maybe I'll just go in normal clothes...” Liam began. 

_“No,_ that's so _boring,”_ said Zayn. “We have to find something.” 

They ended up back in front of the cheap bagged costumes. Liam would have been fine leaving the store without buying anything, but Zayn talked him into a costume that looked like a stage magician. Liam picked it because it was basically just a tuxedo, not requiring him to carry around anything weird or bulky, like the fireman's plastic ax. They headed up to the counter to pay, and at the last minute Zayn grabbed a red lipstick and threw it into his pile. Liam did not comment. 

They put all their purchases in one bag and headed next door. This time Zayn headed straight upstairs for the ladies clothes with Liam trailing along, bemused. Zayn picked out a light blue button up shirt with long sleeves and a very deep v-neck and a black knee length pencil skirt, with no help from Liam, who found it all too silly for words. 

“Oh, I should get heels,” said Zayn. “Sexy librarians definitely wear heels.” 

“Are you going to shave your legs too?” Liam asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Uhmm...” said Zayn, pondering this. “No. That sounds like too much work. See if they have some tights somewhere.” 

The tights were easy to find; heels in Zayn's size were not so easy, but Zayn eventually settled on a pair that he said would work. 

“It's only for a few hours,” he reminded Liam. “They don't have to be perfect. Also I want a purse.” 

“What for?” Liam asked, skeptically. 

“I just want one,” said Zayn. He found a smallish black one with a thin strap that went over one shoulder. After this he seemed satisfied. They had made it all the way back down stairs when Zayn suddenly stopped again. 

“Shit, I need _boobs!”_ he said, turning back. “Do they sell bras in thrift stores?” 

“Why are you asking _me?”_ Liam asked, startled into a laugh. They headed upstairs to look. 

It turns out they did, though the selection was pretty thin. Zayn frowned at his three best options, one of which was navy blue, one purple and another leopard print. 

“How do you tell if a bra fits?” he asked, considering. 

“You keep asking me these questions as if expecting me to know,” said Liam. “Just- just try it on over your shirt?” 

This turned out to be more than Zayn felt like doing in a thrift store. The burst of energy he'd gotten when planning his costume was running out. He just grabbed the navy blue one and said he'd skip it if it didn't fit. They headed out for real this time, and Liam drove them to Papalote Mexican Grill where they both ordered burritos (Carne Asada for Zayn, Pollo Asado for Liam). Liam finished his but Zayn saved half and wrapped it up in tin foil to take home to the apartment. 

Liam had decided against trying to drive to the Castro that evening- they'd all agreed it would be better to take the bus. Liam found a parking spot on Pine just up from the apartment. He knew from parking here in the past that the whole street had a two hour limit until 7pm, but after that it was free until the next morning. It was already almost 6pm so they'd be fine. When he and Zayn got inside it was to find that Niall, Harry and Louis had already left- without them. 

“Tossers,” said Zayn, throwing his burrito in the fridge. “Well, I guess I'm going to shave. Since I don't want to be a bearded lady.” He headed into the bathroom. Liam pulled out his costume and considered it. He would probably feel like an idiot while wearing it. He sighed. 

“Why haven't you put it on yet?” Zayn asked when he came out again and saw what Liam was looking at. 

“I don't want to wear it on the bus,” said Liam. 

“Ah come on, it's Halloween, lots of people will be dressed up,” said Zayn. 

“Are you going to wear _your_ costume on the bus?” Liam asked. 

“Uhhh,” said Zayn, sounding less than keen. San Francisco buses could be pretty sketchy. 

“That's what I thought,” said Liam. “We can just change when we get there.” 

“Hmmm. Alright,” said Zayn. “I just need to make sure I have everything.” He wandered back into his bedroom, rubbing his newly smooth chin. Liam tossed his costume back into the shopping bag with everything else they'd got that day and followed him. 

“What else do you need?” Liam asked. “Isn't this everything?” 

“I need something to put in the bra,” he said. “Socks, I guess.” He tossed a couple pairs into the bag. “And I need to borrow underwear from Harry. Do you think he'll mind?” He crossed the hall into Harry's room. 

“Probably not,” said Liam, cautiously. They all borrowed each others clothes quite a lot. “But... why?” 

_“Well,_ I don't fancy trying to wearing the tights over my boxers, and I don't fancy wearing them over nothing,” said Zayn, raising his eyebrows. Liam did not respond. An extremely vivid mental picture had just formed in his mind, and he needed to concentrate on something else to make it go away. Zayn riffled through Harry's drawers until he found what he wanted, and chucked a pair of very small black underwear into the bag. They were kind of... lacy? This evening was getting off to a weird start. 

“That's everything I can think of,” said Zayn. “Let's go.” 

They locked the apartment and headed out with the glow of evening still in the air. They caught a bus from Geary to Divisadero, then had to wait for fifteen minutes for the next one which would drop them off on Castro street. When they got on it was obvious they were not the only ones headed in that direction- over half the people that got on along the way were in costume. There were two girls dressed as bumblebees, several witches (both of the slutty and non-slutty variety) and a firefighter who looked like he was wearing the exact same costume that Liam had rejected earlier. There were also lots of people just wearing bizarre combinations of street clothes- a blue wig, a stripped fedora and jacket patterned with butterflies; fairy wings and a flapper dress; a school girl outfit covered in fake blood; a goth with a rainbow mohawk; yellow overalls over a red shirt with a green hard hat. Zayn was quiet, just watching everything around them and taking it all in. He got like this sometimes. When Liam had first been getting to know Zayn it used to worry him and cause him to ask Zayn repeatedly if he was alright. Now Liam knew he just needed to space out for a while, recharging. 

It was fully dark when they finally got off the bus, and it was loud. Both sides of the street were packed with costumed people, shuffling in and out of restaurants and bars. The shops between had taken one of two routes- either they had completely closed down and all but blacked out their windows, or they had decorated like crazy, window displays full of fake cobwebs and enormous spiders, crooked tombstones and stuffed ravens. People were spilling off the sidewalk and onto the edges of the street, despite the continuation of traffic. 

“Do you know where this place is?” Liam asked. 

Zayn pulled out his phone and looked it up. “Four blocks,” he said, nodding forward. He pushed his way into the crush of people and Liam followed. An SUV pumping loud music went by, a guy in a cat suit standing up out of the open sunroof and dancing. Motorcycles buzzed past with riders trailing flags or feather boas. People in particularly extravagant costumes stood on street corners, posing for pictures with passersby and completely blocking the flow of foot traffic. Liam saw two vampires in elegant bloodstained dresses and a flock of drag queens walking on towering glittery platform heels. Something poked him hard in the back and he turned to find a girl carrying a fake severed human head on a platter had been shoved into him by a guy in a leather jacket and wolf mask. 

“Sorry, sorry!” said the girl with the platter. 

“No, don't worry,” said Liam, catching her arm so she didn't fall over. When he looked around again he had one second of panic that he had already lost Zayn in the crowd. But there was Zayn, standing right at his elbow. He grabbed Liam's hand to keep them from getting separated. Liam held gratefully onto Zayn with one hand and onto their bag full of costume pieces in the other, and let himself be towed forward. They had to stop at a corner and wait for a street light to cross. A tall, burly man dressed in a nun's habit stood right at the corner. His beard was dyed pink and his face was caked white with makeup, over which he had applied bright campy eyeshadow and penciled brows. He was also carrying a crossing guard's sign and when the lights turned he marched out to the center of the street and held up his stop sign to make sure the cars obeyed the lights. Liam was just able to make out a line of text on the chest of his habit: _Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence._ The Sister stood like a mother bear between the cars and the stream of pedestrians. When the walk sign clicked off, the Sister marched back to corner, herding the stragglers along. 

At last Liam saw a sign glowing up ahead, flashing _Chameleon_ in alternating yellow, blue and pink lights. There was a theater-like marquee below this, stating _Costume Contest, Halloween Night, 10pm, Cash Prizes._ A man who looked like a bouncer stood by the door and Liam wondered if he would ask them for ID, and turn them away for not being 21. But he did not ask, and Liam and Zayn pushed their way inside. Liam had been in plenty of bars back home of course but this was his first time in a genuine San Francisco gay bar, or indeed any kind bar, in America. 

“Do you see anyone?” Liam asked, by which he meant of course Niall, Harry and Louis, as he peered into the crowd. The lights were low and full of multicolored flashes from a light ball in one corner. The music was just below the edge of too loud for normal conversation. 

“I don't... wait... There's Harry!” said Zayn, cranking his neck. “What the hell is he wearing?” 

_What is he wearing,_ Liam wondered. Harry had on a flowery long sleeved shirt, patterned in soft colors with roses and paisleys, over mustard yellow corduroy pants. There was a scarf tied around his waist and a crown of daisies in his hair. A silver peace sign hung from a ribbon around his neck, amid various other beads and pendants. 

“Liam, Zayn!” he called, spotting them. He danced over. 

“Hey,” said Zayn, grinning. 

“You guys aren't in costume,” Harry scolded. “It's Halloween, you have to wear a costume!” 

“We have them to change into,” said Liam, holding up the bag. “What are you supposed be, a gypsy?” 

“A flower child,” Harry stated promptly. Liam tried to picture Louis dressed in a similar get up but his imagination failed him. 

“Come on,” said Harry. “We finally managed to get a table but one of us has to sit there constantly or it'll get stolen.” He grabbed both of them and shouldered his way through the press of people. 

The Chameleon had a large rectangular central room divided by a line of posts running down the middle and supporting the impressive oak beamed ceiling. On the left side there was a small stage, really just a platform about ten feet wide and twenty feet long raised two feet off the floor. Liam had heard they had live music here on most weekends, which was supposed to be pretty good. The stage was covered in two or three very worn Persian rugs, but stood empty now save for an amp and two mic stands. The area in front of the stage was clear for dancing, but the right side of the room was full of scatted tables and stools, and there were tables in booths running down the right wall. Straight ahead from the front door was the long bar, a gorgeous piece of polished dark wood with mirrored shelves behind filled with liquors. Around the right side of the bar was a hall leading to a separate, slightly quieter room with three pool tables. There were men everywhere, playing pool, leaning against the bar, drinking, laughing, sizing each other up. A large percentage of them had picked costumes that involved being shirtless. Liam was starting to feel he would actually be less conspicuous in his conservative costume than he currently was in street clothes. 

Harry pulled Liam and Zayn over to one of the booth tables against the wall. Liam spotted Niall and Louis right away. Niall was wearing a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt tucked into blue jeans, a belt with an enormous brass buckle and cowboy boots. Louis was _not_ dressed like a hippie. He was dressed as a cop, a full dark blue uniform which included the fake hand mic radio on his shoulder and a plastic gun and handcuffs hanging from his belt. The only thing he had left off was the hat, presumably because he did not want to mess up his hair. The combination of coif and shit-eating grin made him just about the least convincing cop that Liam had ever seen. 

“Hey,” yelled Niall as they got nearer. “You made it! We thought maybe you got lost.” 

“You losers didn't dress up!” called Louis. 

“We're _going_ to,” said Zayn. “But _Liam_ didn't want to wear his on the bus.” 

“Hey, you didn't either,” said Liam, defensively. “I thought you guys were going to wear matching costumes?” he said to Harry and Louis. 

“We _are_ wearing matching costumes,” said Harry, draping an arm lazily over Louis's shoulder. “We're 1969.” Louis smirked, snaking a hand around Harry's waist. 

“What?” said Liam. 

“The Summer of Love?” said Harry. “Woodstock? Oh come on, it's the best idea ever, every single person in this city is a hippie. We're sure to win.” 

“And I'm a cowboy!” said Niall. “Howdy, partner,” he added, in the fakest of fake American accents. 

“Yes, I can see that,” said Liam, rolling his eyes. 

“Come on, let's go change,” said Zayn.

“Bathrooms are down that hall to the pool tables,” said Harry. 

“What are your costumes?” Niall asked, trying to peek into Liam's bag. 

“You'll see,” said Zayn, with a little smile. 

He and Liam headed off. The bathroom was narrow and had a line of urinals down one side with a long mirror and sinks on the other. There were three stalls at the end, and Liam and Zayn each took one. Liam ripped open the plastic bag of his costume and pulled it out to have a look. It was very cheaply made of scratchy rayon, the pants with bad seams and no hem. The shirt, jacket, tails, cummerbund and bow tie of the tuxedo top were all one piece. Aside from the pants and the shirt the only other things in the bag were a pair of white gloves and a piece of dowel, painted black in the middle and white on both ends, which was apparently supposed to be a magic wand. The guy in the stock photo on the front of the bag had a white rabbit and a top hat as well, but those where obviously not included. He pulled the whole costume on and noticed a much more annoying missing item.

“Damn,” said Liam. “My costume doesn't have any pockets!” 

_“Yeah..._ neither does mine,” said Zayn from the neighboring stall. 

“Having second thoughts?” Liam chuckled. 

“No, but I could use some help,” said Zayn, sounding annoyed. “I can't get this goddamn thing latched in the back.” 

Liam let himself out of his stall and Zayn pushed open the door of his. He'd changed into the tights and the heels and the black pencil skirt, but the bra was giving him trouble. 

“If we were straight, we'd probably know how these worked,” said Zayn. He had the straps over his shoulders but he couldn't reach the clasp. He turned around so Liam could see. “Do it for me, will you?” he said over his shoulder. 

Either this was unusually difficult, or Liam's hands were unusually clumsy. Zayn's back was very warm under his fingers. 

“Hold your breath or something,” Liam muttered. Zayn obliged, and Liam got the clasp done up at last. 

“Huhhh,” said Zayn, putting one hand to his side with a somewhat pained expression. 

“Can you breathe?” asked Liam, worried. “Don't wear it if you can't breathe.” 

“I can _breathe,”_ snapped Zayn. 

“Okay, alright,” said Liam, putting his hands up. He threw all his regular clothes into the bag they'd brought their costumes in and backed out of the stall to let Zayn finish changing. A couple of other guys had come into the bathroom, at least two of whom had been eavesdropping with evident amusement. One of these was a very tall man wearing a sparkly black corset, black panties, garters, thigh-high black nylons and heels. Dr Frank-N-Furter, Liam realized, from _Rocky Horror Picture Show._ Frank-N-Furter was standing in front of the long mirror touching up his extravagant eyeshadow. 

After a few minutes Zayn came out, fully dressed, with the black purse hanging from one shoulder. The shirt fit him surprisingly well, but only buttoned up just past the bra. If he had had cleavage, it would have been showing. He headed over to the mirror, frowning as he pulled on his wig and straightened out the long tangled hair. 

“Should have brought a comb, didn't think of that,” he muttered. 

“I'll get the back,” said Liam, and he finger-combed the fake curls while Zayn pulled out the red lipstick. He attempted to apply it, but this was not his area of expertise. 

“That looks fucking awful,” Zayn said, regarding himself in the mirror. The lipstick looked like a lopsided red crayon smear on his lips. “Do you think you could do a better job?” He asked Liam. 

“No,” said Liam, truthfully. “I'd probably do it worse.” 

“Oh, _honey,”_ said Dr Frank-N-Furter. He had looked over in the mirror and seen the mess that Zayn had made with the lipstick. “That is _so_ not your color. Let me.” 

Zayn made a little gesture of acceptance and Frank-N-Furter swept over with his makeup kit in hand. 

“You need something much more subtle,” said Dr Frank-N-Furter, pulling out a clean wipe and taking a hold of Zayn's chin. He removed the red briskly. “Close your eyes, I'm going to do some foundation,” he instructed. Zayn closed his eyes, possibly surprised into obedience. Liam watched as Dr Frank-N-Furter did a layer of foundation, and then some kind of powder, eye liner and a little bit of eye shadow. 

“You have lovely eyelashes,” Frank-N-Furter informed Zayn. “You don't need mascara.” 

“....Thanks?” said Zayn. 

The finishing touch was lip gloss, a rosy pink much softer than the red that Zayn had picked. When Frank-N-Furter had applied it he stepped back to admire the effect. Zayn opened his eyes, blinking a little. 

“You look gorgeous,” said Dr Frank-N-Furter. “Doesn't he look gorgeous?” he said, elbowing Liam in ribs. 

“Ummmm,” said Liam. 

Liam was staring at Zayn and- well- obviously he still looked like Zayn, but he also looked like a girl, and he made a pretty decent girl actually. Something about the heels had changed his posture, just as the wig was changing how he held his head and the make up was changing his expression. He did look beautiful, but it was strange because, Liam realized, he kind of always thought Zayn looked beautiful. But now it was in an exotic way that made Liam a little uncomfortable. He wasn't sure how he felt about all this. 

“Uh, yeah,” he said at last, because the Doctor had raised one of his expressive eyebrows and a grin with some wickedness in it was tugging up the corner of his painted lips. Liam hoped that this meager response would forestall him from saying anything else. 

Zayn smiled slightly and turned to look at himself in the mirror. He gave his reflection a little nod as if to say _yes, that's about what I expected all along._ Though how he could have expected this transformation Liam could not imagine. He certainly hadn't been able to picture it. Liam was starting to think maybe his imagination just wasn't very good. 

“Shall we head out and show the others?” Zayn asked. Liam managed a nod, and picked up the bag of their clothes. 

Harry and Niall were waiting impatiently right outside the door of the men's room. 

“You took _forever,”_ Harry began accusingly to Liam- then he saw Zayn. 

“Holy crap!” Harry yelped. 

“Oh my god!” exclaimed Niall, at almost exactly the same moment. 

“Holy crap, you didn't!” said Harry. 

“Zayn, you're a fucking _girl!”_ said Niall. 

“Fuck yeah,” said Zayn, a grin spreading across his face. 

“James Bond!” said Harry, laughing. 

“What?” said Niall. 

_What?_ thought Liam. 

“They've dressed as _James Bond_ and a _Bond Girl!”_ exclaimed Harry, delighted. “Why didn't you say you had such an cool idea??” 

“Oh- oh my god you're _right,”_ said Niall. “Which movie are you supposed to be from?” he asked, excitedly.

“Uhhhhhh...” said Zayn. He and Liam traded a look of suppressed hilarity. _James Bond and a Bond Girl, what, really...? But actually..._ Liam made a quick decision. 

“Casino Royal,” he said firmly, before Zayn could answer and mess it up. That was Liam's favorite Bond movie, and he'd much rather be James Bond then a stage magician with no rabbit, _any day._ Liam causally dropped the magic wand he'd been holding into a trash can outside the bathrooms. He realized that Zayn had forgotten to put on the librarian glasses after his makeover. 

“You aren't quite as hot as Eva Green,” Niall informed Zayn. “But you look pretty damn hot.” 

“Wow, thanks,” said Zayn sarcastically. 

“This is genius, we _have_ to show, Louis!” declared Harry. “He's guarding the table.” 

They all trooped back to the booth, Zayn wobbling a little on the heels. Harry slide into the booth on Louis's side and stole his beer, taking a sip. Niall climbed in on the other side, and Zayn followed him. Liam stashed their bag of clothes under the table and slide into the booth next to Zayn. 

“Didn't know you guys were dressing as couple,” said Louis, raising his eyebrows when their costumes had been explained. 

“It was kind of a last minute idea,” said Zayn, airily. He flipped a strand of long hair over his shoulder. Liam felt it brush across his cheek. 

“That's cool,” said Louis. 

Suddenly, Liam registered what was in front of his face: Louis was holding a beer in one hand. Harry had taken a swig of it. There were three more empties on the table. 

“You're drinking!” said Liam, surprised. “How did you get those, did someone buy them for you?” 

_“Louis bought them,”_ said Niall, in the sort of tone usually reserved for congratulating someone who had just won a Nobel prize, or perhaps been voted head of major county. 

“What? How?” asked Zayn, frowning. 

“Got a fake ID,” said Louis, leaning back smugly. Harry grinned at him, which made Louis look even more pleased, if that was possible. 

“That's... rather illegal,” said Liam, mildly. 

“It's hardly breaking the law, I'll be 21 in less than two months,” said Louis. “And it's a stupid law anyway. They're allowed to vote here at 18, and buy porn, and go into the Army and shoot people. Why can't they drink until 21?” 

“You would be the worst cop of _all time,”_ said Zayn, laughing. “Will you get me something?” 

“Sure,” said Louis, grandly. “What about you, Liam? Too shady for you? Worried you'll be arrested?” 

“Fuck you,” said Liam, “And buy me a beer.” 

“No, a martini!” said Harry. “James Bond needs a martini. Shaken, not stirred!” 

“Get me another one of these!” said Niall, holding up his bottle.

Harry reluctantly scooted away from Louis to let him out, and Louis headed off to elbow his way up to the bar. 

“What have you been drinking?” asked Liam, tipping one of the empty bottles forward to have a look at the label. 

“Russian River,” said Niall. “It's a local brewery, I guess. It's pretty good. Here.” He handed the end of his drink over to Liam. It was pretty good. 

After a few minutes Louis was back, handing around bottles and setting a martini down in front of Liam. Liam would rather have had what Niall was having, but oh well. He supposed he should drink it in honor of his upgraded costume.

“You're all paying me back for these at the end of the night,” said Louis, “I'm just putting them on a tab. Actually,” he added, “You guys should pay for my drinks too, since I paid for the ID.” 

“Can I see it?” asked Liam. Louis pulled the card out of one of the chest pockets of his uniform and passed it over. It had a picture of Louis, but the name below it was William Austin. The birth date listed was June 12th, 1988. It had the same tan background and line work as Liam's license, as well as the shiny California state seal and raised signature. On the back was a bar code and an image of the Golden Gate Bridge. 

“How much did you pay for it?” Zayn asked, and Liam passed it over to him. Presumably Harry and Niall had had a look earlier. Zayn ran his fingers around the edges, but they were as smooth as the average credit card. 

“Eighty,” said Louis. “Sam, you know, in the second year class? He knows someone who makes them in Oakland.” 

Liam snorted. “That's twice as much as I paid for my _actual_ California drivers license. I did have to retake the driving test though.” 

“Can't get drinks with yours though,” said Niall. “Cheers!” 

“Heeyy, now I can drive your _car!”_ said Louis. 

_“Absolutely not,”_ said Liam, and he must have made a revolted expression, because Harry, Niall and Zayn all started laughing at him. “No _fucking_ way. Do you have any idea how weird it is to drive on the right hand side of the road? I was shit at it for months.” 

“Ah, it can't be that hard,” said Louis, knocking back the end of his beer. “You're probably just a shit driver. We were just talking about going on a road trip,” he added, to Harry. 

“We were,” Harry agreed. 

“Road trip!” said Niall, enthusiastically. “I want to come! Where are we going?” 

“I wanna go to Tahoe,” said Louis. “You can rent cabins up there for a weekend, and they're not too expensive when it's off season. Most people go up after it snows, to ski or whatever. They're pretty cheap right now.” Clearly, he had put some actual thought into this. 

“That sounds really good,” said Zayn, a bit wistful. “Like, how big are the cabins?” 

“It's the middle of the semester,” protested Liam. 

“I _know,”_ said Louis. He shifted his shoulders, restless. “I just- I'd really like to get away. Not be in the city for awhile. Not be in school.” He was quiet for a moment, tapping a bottle cap between his fingers on the table. Louis had recently been demonstrating his desire to not be in school by not always showing up for class. This reminded Liam of how he himself had cut class this afternoon. It was the first class he had missed this year.

“What happened in dance history?” Liam asked. 

“Ugggh,” groaned Zayn. “Don't tell him.” 

“We're _not_ talking about school on Halloween night,” said Harry, exasperated. 

“Did you take notes for me?” Liam persisted. 

“Yes, I took notes, we can talk about them later,” said Harry. “As in, _not now.”_

“Alright,” said Liam, satisfied. He finished off the martini. 

“I want to know more about the cabins,” said Zayn. “Could we all just get one?” 

“There are all different kinds,” said Louis. 

“We've got that break in November, you know, for Thanksgiving,” said Harry. “There's no reason to go home for it, our families won't have it off.” 

“We should _go,”_ said Niall. “We should all rent a cabin and go together!” 

“I'm not sure you guys are invited,” said Louis, looking sideways at Harry and raising an eyebrow. 

“Mmmm,” said Harry. He smiled back, propping his chin on his hand. “D'you wanna get me another drink?” 

“Oh, is that all I'm good for?” Louis laughed. 

“There are a few other things,” said Harry. 

“Alright,” said Louis. “Anyone else?” He took orders and headed off again. As he was getting back the Lady Gaga song that had been playing loudly throughout the bar was turned down, quickly shushing the buzz of talk and chatter than had been left in it's wake. A spot light came up on the stage, and heads turned in that direction. A very fit man in the uniform of a Starfleet officer had taken the stage, and was picking up one of the mics. 

“This on?” he asked in the direction of the bar, but it was, so he turned back to crowd. “How's everyone doing on Halloween night? Getting some tricks and treats?”

There was a cheer, and some laughter, and many people raised their glasses in a salute. 

“Alright, good,” said the Starfleet officer. “It's coming up on nine o'clock and everyone who wants to participate in our sixth annual costume contest _needs be signed up_ by nine thirty. If you haven't signed up yet, come to the stage now. I've got the clipboard for couples and groups, and my lovely assistant-” he pointed to a Vulcan at the other end of the stage, who waved, “has the sheet for individuals. So get up here!” He slid the mic back into the stand and turned to face the costumed drinkers who became pushing forward to put their names down. 

“You guys need to go sign up!” said Harry, waving his hands at Liam and Zayn. “Go, go!” 

“We all signed up already,” added Niall. 

“Are we... are we entering?” Liam asked, looking at Zayn. He hadn't planned to, but they hadn't talked about it. 

“Well, since we had this _awesome costume idea,”_ said Zayn, smiling crookedly. “It seems like we should.” 

“When you put it that way...” said Liam, laughing a little. He drank half the beer Louis had handed him a minute ago in one long swallow. “Let's do this,” he said, setting the bottle down decisively. Niall sneaked an arm out to take it. 

“If you drink that before I get back, I want another one,” said Liam, pointing at him. He slid out of the booth and gave Zayn a hand. Zayn tugged his skirt down a little and they made their way slowly towards the stage. They had to maneuver to get through all the tables and the crowd. Zayn, Liam noticed, had swung the purse over his head so that it hung from one shoulder, strap across his chest, bag resting on the opposite hip. This served (possibly intentionally?) to press down the shirt in between his fake boobs, making them even more obvious.

They made it up to the Starfleet officer at last. Liam wrote in their names on the clipboard as “James Bond and Vesper Lynd” and they received the number 38 in return. Liam raised his eyebrows over some of the costume names higher above theirs on the list. Stiff competition. He, unlike Harry, had no expectation that they would win. As they walked back Zayn stumbled and had to catch himself on Liam's arm. Liam looked down. Zayn had lifted up one his feet and was rotating the ankle, as if checking to make sure he hadn't twisted it. 

“Heels are really hard to walk in,” said Zayn, as if this was a new and surprising discovery. 

“If you sprain an ankle you'll be sitting out dance for the rest of the semester,” said Liam. 

Zayn winced at the thought, and walked very carefully after that. Niall had left Liam most of his beer, in favor of switching to the whiskey sours that Louis seemed to have decided that everyone wanted. They talked a little, but none of their attentions were really on conversation, especially Harry, who kept craning over to look towards the stage. Finally Kirk and Spock had signed up their last contestants, and the ranking officer grabbed the mic again. 

“Drummmmm rooooolllll, please!” He called into the mic. The audience obliged by pounding on the tables and stamping their feet uproariously upon the floor. “If we could get everyone who signed up as an individual to head over to the left side of the stage... I'm going to call out the numbers and you have ONE MINUTE and ONE MINUTE ONLY to make an impression on the audience, who will choose the final winners once the Good Witch selects her favorite five! Once again people this is the _Sixth Annual Chameleon Costume Contest!_ May the odds be ever in your favor!” 

There was a cheer and a mass push towards the stage as the individual contestants tried to move towards the stage, and so did everyone else, to get a better view. 

“Go Niall!” said Harry. “Charm the pants off of 'em!” 

Niall, grinning, took his drink and headed off towards the stage with everyone else. Liam stood up again, trying to see over the heads of everyone in front of him. Their table, which had been nicely out of the way earlier in the evening, was now at the very back of the crowd. The first contestant, an escapee from Alcatraz, merely waved at the audience. He was followed by a 10th doctor who brandished a sonic screwdriver and complained about not being ginger, and a sexy boy scout wearing extremely small shorts who recited a dirty version of a scout's pledge. 

“I can't _see!”_ complained Harry. “I want to go stand near the stage!” 

“You guys go, I'll watch the table,” said Louis. 

Harry, Liam and Zayn edged their way into the press and as close to the stage as they could get. Some of the costumes were really good- there was a Captain Jack Sparrow who could probably have worked at Disneyland, and an Elvis who could easily have been marrying people in Vegas. Some costumes had just been thrown together last minute- there was a very half-hearted Peter Pan, a few men just wearing plastic masks bought in stores, and a guy wearing a painted cardboard box that might have been meant as a Tetris piece. He was booed off the stage. However, the guy wearing nothing but a pizza box with whole cut in the middle around his waist (sort of like a very flat tutu) got some whoops of appreciation. Zombie were in this year. There was a zombie doctor, a zombie baseball player (Giants, of course) and a zombie Snow White. There was an adorable and extremely drunk Pikachu, who still managed to sing about half the Pokemon theme song in Japanese before his minute was up. He wasn't the only singer- there was a David Bowie who sang part of “John, I'm Only Dancing” _(John- I'm only dancing- he turns me on-on-on- but I'm only dancing)_ and a really well dressed Freddy Mercury who completely tanked the minute he opened his mouth. 

A tall and heavily cloaked Darth Vader took the stage, his shiny boots sinking into the Persian rugs. He had the mask, the gloves, the machinery- everything. When the Captain Kirk handed him the microphone, Vader took a few long rasping breaths that filled the bar. The crowd grew quieter, in anticipation. 

“Luke,” said Vader, in the gravely voice so recognizable from the movies. He reached into his cloak and pulled out a black leather paddle, which he slapped again his own thigh. It made solid slap. “Luke, I am your _daddy.”_

The audience burst into raucous applause. Many whistles and some laughter followed his exit. 

_That'll be a hard act to follow,_ thought Liam, grinning. 

The next person to step onto the carpeted platform was Niall. He took the mic from Kirk with a smile, then walked right up to the center front of the stage. He gazed out over the heads of the crowd seriously for a moment, as if getting into character. Then he looked down, scuffing the toe of his cowboy boot at some imaginary dirt. He reached up to re-adjust his hat, and then rested a hand for a moment on his belt buckle before letting it fall to his side. He was really milking the cowboy thing for all it was worth. At last he looked up again, his eyes wide and very blue under the lights. 

“I wish I knew how to quit you,” said Niall, his voice plaintive and Irish. 

A collective _“Awwwwwwww”_ went up from the crowd, and Niall gave them his sunniest smile before giving the mic back. He got a good bit of applause as he walked off the stage. 

“I didn't know he was going to do that!” said Zayn, loudly, so that Harry and Liam could hear him over the noise. 

“I didn't either!” Harry called back. 

Niall was followed by a rash of men who had taken the advice of _The Gaily Grind,_ and used Halloween as an excuse to dress up as slutty as possible and totally get away with it. There was a slutty nurse in a dress that barely made it past his crotch, a slutty lumberjack with his plaid shirt open to better display his chest hair and a slutty sailor wearing nothing but a speedo, sailor hat and nautical scarf knotted around his neck. There was a man wearing a mankini, and a man holding an apple and wearing a thong with three leaves glued to it (presumably Adam). He had really good abs. There were also a couple men in various kinky bondage type costumes. Probably they had bought them at Leather, Etc Liam thought wryly. Also, drag- a few very campy drag queens in the vein of _Priscilla, Queen of the Desert_ or Beach Blanket Babylon. There was one boy though, dressed as Elsa from _Frozen,_ who made an even prettier girl than Zayn. Unless she actually was just a girl. Liam wasn't sure. He had seen a few women here and there in the bar, but not very many. The individuals costume contest wrapped up with a Deadpool and lastly a fat drunk guy wearing enormous plastic breasts over a t-shirt. Kirk reclaimed the microphone and declared that Glinda the Good would pick her favorite five costumes, and that he would call them by number up to the stage in a few minutes. A black drag queen in a beautiful dress and tall sparkling crown waved her wand regally from the bar. The house lights came up a little, and some people moved around to order another drink or use the bathroom. 

Niall had spotted them in the crowd, and he made his way over. 

“How'd I do?” he asked, grinning. 

“Fabulous,” said Harry. “Except that it's Jack who says that line, not Ennis, and you are very blond.” 

“Whatever,” Niall rolled his eyes. “I only saw that movie once and it was long time ago. I wasn't exactly taking notes.”

“When'd you see it?” asked Liam. None of them had shown it to him. 

“In theaters,” said Niall. 

“You went and saw _Brokeback Mountain_ in theaters? Are you _sure_ you're straight?” exclaimed Zayn. 

“It had cowboys in it, and it got really good reviews!” protested Niall. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Liam. 

Captain Kirk was back up on stage. 

“Hello, partiers!” He called into the mic. “Could I please have numbers eight, sixteen, seventeen, twenty nine and thirty five come back up to the stage?” 

“Wait, seventeen?” said Niall, his eyes widening. “That's my number!” 

“Take off your shirt!” yelped Harry. 

“What?” said Niall. 

“Take it off, take it off now! Before you go up onstage,” said Harry. “Come on, trust me! You want to win don't you??” 

“Okay, okay,” said Niall and he pulled his shirt off, causing Liam to wonder for the first time how much he'd had to drink. He had to be at least tipsy if he was willing to take his shirt off in a gay bar with so little protest. He almost tripped getting back up on the platform, confirming Liam's suspicions. 

The crowd got to choose first, second, and third places by clapping for their favorites. Elsa ended up taking first place and the largest cash prize, and Zombie Madison Bumgarner got second. But Niall's misquoting of _Brokeback_ (and possibly also his bare chest) earned him third place and fifty dollars, and he threw his arms up in the air in triumph as he received them. Adam and Darth Vader got honorable mentions. 

“Congratulations and well done everyone!” called Spock into the mic. “We'll start the groups and couples in _five minutes!”_

Liam rose up onto his toes a little to keep an eye on the now shirtless Niall. There were suddenly a lot more guys looking at him. The slutty lumberjack had stepped into his path and pulled Niall into a conversation. 

“I'm... I'm going to go rescue Niall,” Liam said to Harry and Zayn. “Stay here.” 

Liam shouldered his way past the variously skimpy or overdressed men to get to Niall. The slutty lumberjack was handing Niall a business card. 

“Check it out,” said the lumberjack. “They're always looking for people.” 

“Uh, right,” said Niall, sounding very dubious. 

“Been looking for you everywhere,” lied Liam, stepping between them and grabbing Niall's elbow. “Come on.” He pulled Niall away. 

“Kaythanksbye!” Niall called over his shoulder. The lumberjack gave him a wave. 

“What was that?” Liam asked once the lumberjack was out of sight. 

“Said he worked at a talent agency,” said Niall, rolling his eyes. 

“Yeah, I definitely believe that,” said Liam. 

“I think I'm going to go... sit for a minute,” said Niall, and he made his way a little unsteadily towards their booth in the back. The lights faded down and when Liam turned around the first costumed couple had stepped up on the stage- Bert and Ernie, a classic. Next was an angel and devil set who turned around to better display their wings and tail, respectively- and also their asses, barely covered by their shorts. Somewhat appropriately, the angel and devil boys were followed by a pair of Mormons. Liam felt a weird pricking in his stomach at the thought that he and Zayn would be up there soon. Liam caught sight of the back of Harry's flower crowned head and made his way over. 

“Is it weird that I'm nervous?” Liam asked Harry. “I've been on stage tons of times for dance...” 

“Dancing is different,” said Harry cheerfully. “Have a shot.” 

Liam looked down at the little glass Harry held out. Oh, what the hell. He took it and downed it in one as the audience clapped for a three piece trumpet section made of skeletons in suits. The shot was _much_ sweeter than he had expected. 

“What was that?” Liam asked in surprise. 

“Vodka lemon,” said Harry. “Pretty good, yeah?” 

Liam closed his eyes and in a second he felt the alcohol hit- a warmth that rose up in his face and seeped pleasantly into his brain. A thought occurred to him. 

“Wait... where did that come from?” Liam hadn't seen Louis anywhere. 

“That guy over there just bought some for me and Zayn,” Harry nodded to the bar. Zayn had perched himself on a bar stool, probably wanting to get off his feet. Sitting next to him was a terrifying older man, at least fifty, with a full grey beard and _Hells Angels_ spelled out in red on the back of his leather jacket. 

“That guy?” said Liam, his eyes widening. “Aren't the Hells Angels a motorcycle gang? Didn't they like, stab someone to death at that Rolling Stones concert here in the seventies?” 

“I d'know,” said Harry. “Did they?”

“I'm pretty sure,” said Liam. The Hells Angel has noticed Liam staring- he raised his glass in a little salute. This made Zayn turn as well, and he smiled meltingly at Liam. Liam swallowed, made very uncomfortable by the pair of them, but for different reasons. 

“Well, Zayn had two and he hasn't fallen over yet, so I'm sure it's fine,” said Harry. The audience clapped loudly and Liam glanced at the stage where a Captain Jack Harkness and a Ianto Jones were making a bow, presumably having just acted out a little scene. They were followed by a Mario and Luigi set. 

“Shit, I need to get Louis, I think our number is almost up,” said Harry and he turned and disappeared towards the back of the room. This sounded to Liam like an excellent excuse to use to get Zayn away from the Hells Angel. He steeled himself and walked over, trying to feel confidant and James Bond-ish, instead of like a dance major wearing a fake rayon tuxedo. He stopped beside Zayn's stool. The older man raised an eyebrow. 

“I think we're up soon,” said Liam, nodding towards the stage. The audience was groaning at the pun of a deviled egg- one guy dressed as the egg, one as the devil. 

“Oh, right,” said Zayn. “Thanks for the drinks, man,” he said to the Hells Angel and other man just gave him a slow smile. Liam lead Zayn quickly away, wanting to put twelve or fifteen feet of bodies between Zayn and the bar. 

“You do know guys can get roofied too,” said Liam, a little weakly. 

“Oh _Liiaaaam,”_ said Zayn. “I'm _fine.”_ But he had taken Liam's arm and was leaning on him. “My feet hurt is all.”

“Christ,” muttered Liam. 

On the stage a genderbent Cruella Devilla was leading a Dalmatian puppy boy around on a leash. They were followed by three muscled Scotsmen who flipped up their kilts to reveal how very little they were wearing underneath. Next was a team of slutty Avengers- they'd cut apart their store bought costumes leaving little more than the character's logos and just enough fabric to appease decency. Was it just Liam's imagination or was it getting warmer and warmer in this bar? He felt a little light headed, but that was probably just the shot. Definitely not the weight of Zayn resting on his arm. Up on stage a guy dressed as Henry Rollins had just been married to a guy dressed as Glenn Danzig in a 30 second ceremony performed by a Satanic priest. They spent the next 30 seconds eating each other's faces, with noisy encouragement from the crowd. 

Then there were Harry and Louis on the stage. Louis aimed his plastic gun at Harry's chest, holding it dead level with both hands. Harry plucked a daisy out of his flower crown and tried to insert it into the muzzle of the gun. Louis swung his hands up and mimed pistol whipping Harry across the face. Liam flinched a little as Harry fell to his knees. Louis yelled at him to put his hands on his head, and when Harry complied, Louis cuffed his wrists together. Some suggestions as to what he should do next were yelled from the audience, but their minute was up. As Harry staggered up, grinning, his crown slipped off and fell to the floor. Louis bent down and snagged it, setting in on his own head as they left the stage. 

“Let's head up closer,” suggested Liam, and he missed the next few costumes as they pushed their way over to the Starfleet officers with their clipboards. Liam leaned towards Kirk to peek at the list and Kirk pointed out which number they were up to: thirty four. 

The next pair were dressed as Walter White and Jesse Pinkman from _Breaking Bad._ They were followed by a glittering King and Queen of Hearts, in full Elizabethan costumes of red and gold. The Queen was a man with a braided red beard, with the King was a woman (transwoman?) with a sword belted to his/her waist. The King knelt before the Queen, presenting her/him with a single red rose. Then there were three giggly drunk boys in cheerleader outfits, and it was Liam and Zayn's turn. Liam, his stomach fluttering a little with the same kind of pre-show nerves he always felt before a performance, stepped up onto the raised platform. Zayn had taken one of the mics from Spock. Liam reached down to take Zayn's other hand to help him up onto the stage. He wobbled only a little as his heels sank into the Persian rugs. Together, they walked into the spotlight. 

Liam peered out into the crowd. The audience was a sea of faces- painted and masked, horned or fanged, hooting, laughing, whistling, leering. Lots of them had better costumes than Liam, had spent days or weeks or hundreds of dollars putting their outfits together. But Liam stood tall and gave the crowd a confidant and manly nod because he had something none of them had- he had Zayn beside him. 

Zayn raised the mic and gave Liam a sideways glance. 

“I'm the money, Mr Bond,” he said. He raised one eyebrow almost like a challenge. 

Liam couldn't stop a smile from spreading across his face as he leaned towards Zayn to speak into the mic. 

“Every penny of it,” said Liam. 

And then he received the shock of his life, because Zayn leaned forward three inches more and kissed him on the mouth. If Liam had been holding the mic he would have dropped it. Zayn tasted like lip gloss and vodka, and he dived in with his tongue the second Liam's mouth opened in surprise. Liam didn't even have breath to gasp. He could feel Zayn's fake boobs pressing into his chest, which was, frankly, very weird. But it was something pressing against him rather _lower down_ that really caught Liam's attention. A flash of white heat shot down his spine and his palms were burning...

And then just as quickly it was over. Zayn stepped back with a devilish expression, and Liam was suddenly re-aware of the lights and the stage and the avalanche cheers and wolf-whistles from the crowd. Zayn was handing the mic back to a grinning Starfleet officer and he pulled Liam off the stage by the arm. Liam followed, though he didn't know how, because he couldn't seem to remember how to operate his legs. Or any of his limbs, for that matter. 

Zayn pulled Liam through the bulk of the crowd into the fringe of stranglers at the back. Liam followed like a sleepwalker. Suddenly Zayn tripped and cursed and just saved himself from a topple forward onto his face. Zayn, Liam realized, was probably really drunk right now. Zayn put a hand on Liam's shoulder so he could reach down and pull off one shoe. The badly fitting thing had ripped a hole in the heel of his tights, and the skin beneath looked raw. He was going to have a nasty blister come morning. 

“These fucking things,” said Zayn, straightening. “I'm going to go sit down at the table.” 

“Okay,” said Liam, his voice a little high. His entire world view had just rearranged itself. He didn't understand how Zayn could be acting so normal. 

“You coming?” Zayn asked, raising his eyebrows just a little. 

“Uh,” said Liam. He swallowed. “I think I'll just... wait here... for a minute...” he trailed off, weakly. 

Zayn looked at him for a moment with an expression that Liam couldn't begin to read. 

“Alright,” said Zayn. He turned and limped away from Liam with one shoe still dangling from his fingers. Zayn's hand on Liam's shoulder had burned like a coal; its absence was like the first touch of snow on the shoulders of a winter coat. 

Liam stood where he was, unmoving, not registering any of the last costume entries. He stayed only long enough to hear that nether his and Zayn's number, nor Harry and Louis's number, had been called. Then he turned and fled like the coward that he was into the bathroom. He kept his head down as he walked past three scantily clad men using the urinals and he locked himself into the stall in which, earlier that evening, he had helped Zayn fasten the back of a navy blue bra. Had that really been less than five hours ago? That didn't seem possible. 

Okay, so, here was the thing. Liam knew that he and Zayn were friends- very good friends. Actually, he'd say by now that Zayn was probably his best friend. Liam also knew that Zayn was extremely attractive. He had noticed that within, oh, the first five minutes of their acquaintance. And Liam knew that he hated it when other people flirted with Zayn, or hit on him, or looked him up and down as if he were a pretty box with nothing on the inside. But it had taken until now for Liam to make the final connection between these facts, to realize that he hated those things because he was attracted to Zayn. God, he was _so slow!_

But what about Zayn? He had kissed Liam and he had been hard, Liam had _felt it-_ then seconds later he was acting like nothing had happened. Liam had been so sure for a minute... but suddenly he was not sure. Maybe he had imagined it. Or maybe- could it have been the purse? Had the purse gotten caught between them? That aside there was still the kiss. It had felt like a pretty serious kiss. But now Liam began to doubt that as well. Maybe Zayn hadn't really meant it- it was like Niall quoting from the movie, or Louis with the gun. Just an act, putting on a good show for the crowd. Liam pressed his forehead and his palms flat against the cold metal of the stall door. He had made a mistake somewhere. He probably should have gone back to the table with Zayn when he had asked. But... what then? Would Zayn have kissed him again, if no one was watching? Liam had known Zayn for twelve weeks now, and he had thought that he was beginning to understand Zayn. Now, Liam realized, he didn't understand anything. He had no idea what was going on. 

Liam rubbed a hand across his face and the taste of lip gloss was suddenly on his tongue again... and that was another thing. Liam had thought he was done with shit like lip gloss and bras and all that. He hadn't kissed someone with makeup on since he'd come out at sixteen. He liked boys, that was sort of the point of being gay, and he really didn't understand why Zayn had been so committed to dressing up as girl. Not that there was anything wrong with it. Liam kind of just didn't understand dressing up in general. He was himself, and could not be anything more or less than that. The desire to transform or change was foreign to him. Perhaps Zayn was not so comfortable in his own skin. Liam wondered, suddenly, if Zayn had been teased when he'd been in school. For reading comics, or for having pierced ears, or just for being kind of quiet and spacey. Or for being gay. Liam didn't know. 

Someone knocked on the door of the bathroom stall and Liam jumped, for he had still been leaning on it and the knock had resounded directly into his ear. 

“Just a second,” said Liam, and he flushed the empty toilet so whoever it was didn't think he'd just been wanking in here or something. _Christ._ He pushed open the stall door and walked quickly to the sinks. He washed his hands without looking into the mirror, and left the bathroom. 

Liam needed to talk to someone. He glanced around- Harry, or Niall, or Louis, where were they... Harry's floral shirt caught his eye almost at once. It and the yellow pants managed to stand out even it this crowd. But Harry didn't look to be in a very good position for talk... Liam's eyes widened as he realized what was going on. Louis had now handcuffed Harry's hands behind his back around one of the posts that held up the beautiful wooden ceiling. But Harry didn't seem to mind- quite the opposite in fact. His entire body was arched forward, pulling against the bonds at his wrists. Louis was leaning into him with a thigh pressed deep between Harry's legs- Harry was riding it and shuddering and kissing Louis desperately, as if Louis was air and he was drowning. Louis had both hands fisted in Harry's curls the better to control Harry's mouth... they had gained a good little audience. Liam felt himself flushing just from looking at them and he turned away. 

“Great job keeping things quiet, guys,” he muttered sarcastically, a little dazed. 

_I need to find Zayn,_ thought Liam, and the memory of Zayn in combination with what he had just seen sent a pulse of blood to the least rational part of his body. _Fuck,_ wait, no... he wanted to talk _about_ Zayn, so he needed to find someone who was _not_ Zayn. Harry and Louis were obviously busy- extremely busy- that left Niall... where was he? Liam spotted his cowboy hat. Niall had his elbow resting on a chest high table in the middle of the room, and he still had his shirt off. Why did he still have his shirt off? He was standing very close to a girl wearing a slinky silver halter-top, patterned with fish scales. She had long green hair like a mermaid. Trust Niall to find a girl to talk to, even in a gay bar in the Castro on Halloween night. He looked pretty interested. He kept getting closer and closer under the guise of leaning in to hear her talk. Just when it seemed like Niall might stop up her words with a kiss a third person stepped into their space and put their arms around the mermaid from behind. The mermaid startled a little in surprise, then half turned to put an arm around the other woman's shoulders. A look of extreme intimacy passed between them, and the situation was suddenly very clear. The mermaid's girlfriend was all leather and tattoos, but her short blond hair, Liam saw, almost exactly like Niall's... Niall leaned back abruptly, disappointment written across his face. He picked up a pint glass from in front of him and took a sip to cover his expression. Ah- perhaps now was not the moment to talk to Niall either... but that just left Zayn. 

And suddenly Liam saw him. Zayn was sitting at the bar again, both his shoes on the floor under his stool and a drink in front of him, some kind of girly cocktail thing. Liam was relieved to see that the Hells Angel was nowhere in sight, but only for a minute. Because it was that fucking guy, _Gauges,_ that _asshole_ from the comic book store sitting next to him! He hadn't even dressed up, he was still wearing the same douchey clothes he'd been wearing earlier. He was playing with one of the long curls of Zayn's wig, and he gave it a joking little tug. Very predictably Zayn's hands flew up to his head to hold the wig in place and Gauges took the opportunity to steal the fake cherry out of Zayn's drink. He made some comment and Zayn started to giggle helplessly, the uncontrollable laughter of the extremely intoxicated. 

_Fuck. This. Shit,_ thought Liam. He was done. He was no longer having fun here and he wanted to leave. First though he'd have to round up all the idiots that he called friends. Liam marched right up to Zayn before Gauges could spout any more profound witticisms. 

“Hey,” said Liam loudly. Zayn and Gauges both turned to look at him, surprised. The sight of Liam set Zayn off giggling again. Liam waited a moment until the worst of it had passed. 

“Hey, it's time to go home,” said Liam. 

“Wowww,” said Gauges, widening his eyes. “Who the fuck are you?” 

Liam ignored this. 

“Come on,” said Liam, giving his head a little nod towards the door, hoping like hell that Zayn would come of his own accord. _Please,_ he thought a little desperately, _please just come. Don't make me pull you away..._

“Okay,” said Zayn, his voice still breathy with suppressed laughter. He slide off the stool and came to Liam, leaving shoes and drink behind. His skirt had gotten hiked half way up his thighs and Liam was so, so done with this evening. Zayn leaned into Liam and Liam put an arm around his waist quickly to keep Zayn upright. Zayn almost started laughing again but he managed to contain it, though his shoulders were shaking against Liam's side. 

“Where are we going?” Zayn asked, rather loudly. 

“We have to get Niall,” said Liam. He half-supported Zayn over to where he'd last seen Niall. Thankfully Niall was still there, now sitting shirtless and alone at his table. He was staring bemusedly into his empty glass, as if wondering where all the beer had gone. 

“Hey,” said Liam, tapping him on the shoulder. “You ready to go home?” 

Niall looked up, slowly focusing on Liam's face. 

“Leeum,” said Niall, and his accent was as thick and blurred as Liam had ever heard it. 

“Leeumm, therre was a pretty guurl,” said Niall. “But she was here with another guurl! She looked like me, Leum! _Gurl-me stole my gurl!”_

“Yeah, I saw,” said Liam as Zayn burst into a flood of giggles at his side. “That sucks, man,” he added, trying to sound sympathetic. 

“It sucks, man,” Niall repeated, and he raised his glass as if to take a swig. A puzzled expression crossed his face when the glass reached his lips and he found it empty. Zayn was dying over this fresh act of comedy. He was now leaning on the table to keep himself up. Niall smiled at him a little, unsure of the joke. Then he seemed to remember something. 

“Leeum!” he said. “Therre wurr a few guys that kept askin' for me number. Askin' and askin'. So I gave them yours! There was one- he was pretty fit- at least I think he was...” He grinned sunnily at Liam, as if he had done him a real favor. Liam winced, trying not to think how many random gay men who fancied blonds might be texting him in the near future... 

“Listen,” said Liam. “Can you- can you look after Zayn for just a minute? Like, don't let him wander off. Also, don't let that guy over at the bar talk him.” Liam felt he was leaving the blind to lead the blind here, but he could collect Harry and Louis faster if he didn't have Zayn in tow. And he really wanted to get out of here. 

“A'right,” said Niall. “I ken look affer him.” 

“Great,” said Liam. “I'll be right back.” 

As he turned away Liam heard Niall say confidently, “Don' worry, I'm goin' t' protect you, gurl-Zaynnn...” which only started up Zayn's laughter again. 

Liam pushed his way through the tables quickly, not wanting to leave them for long. But he was brought up short. The post that had held Harry and Louis was empty. 

_“Fuck everything,”_ swore Liam. Where _the fuck_ were they? He wondered wildly if they had actually left the bar. Or was Louis having his way with Harry under a table somewhere? Or maybe in the bathroom? Liam turned towards it, his stomach sinking. To his immense relief the door swung open a moment later to reveal Harry and Louis tumbling out in a state of ruffled dishabille. Liam had absolutely no desire to know what unhygienic kinkiness they'd been getting up to in there. 

“Harry, Louis, we need to leave,” said Liam, making in a statement and expecting them to argue. If they weren't going to come Liam was going to take Niall and Zayn and leave without them. Screw them and their screwing. He was done. 

“Right,” said Louis. 

“Yep,” said Harry. He was standing just behind Louis, pressed up against him, with both arms wrapped around Louis's chest. Probably so he could rub himself against Louis's ass. Liam wouldn't have been in the least surprised. 

“Time to go home,” said Louis, a stupid grin spreading across his face. 

“Time to go to bed!” said Harry, enthusiastically. 

“Great,” said Liam, choosing not to question their highly questionable motives. He grabbed Louis's arm and turned to drag him back over to where he'd left Niall and Zayn. Liam didn't need to look back to know that where Louis went, Harry would follow. 

Somehow Liam got them all herded out of the bar and to the street corner. They stood together under a streetlight, breath creating puffs of steam in the dark chilly air. It was well after midnight, technically November now, and cold as fuck. 

“Give me your phone,” Liam demanded of Niall, and received it without complaint. He was going to just order them a damn Uber cab, not mess around with the buses this time of night. Liam had never made an account since he usually had his car, and so always used Niall's. He got one ordered and suddenly thought of another thing. 

“Shit, we didn't pay our tab,” said Liam. “Give me that fifty you won, Niall.” 

“Whhyy?” asked Niall. 

“Just give it to me,” said Liam, tired and cold and exasperated. 

“I won it,” Niall informed him, even as he reached into his pocket and handed it over. 

“Yeah, well, you also drank your fair share.” 

Liam sprinted back into the Chameleon and elbowed his way up to the bar. 

“Half an hour til last call, people,” the barman was saying loudly. People began queuing up with last orders. 

“Hey, this is for my friend,” said Liam, waving to get the bartender's attention and pushing the money into his hand. “Dressed as a cop,” he added, since he wasn't sure what name Louis would have given. Then he turned and scampered, not waiting to see if fifty would cover it. He was pretty damn sure it wouldn't. 

When he made it back out again Liam was extremely relieved to find them all roughly where he had left them. Niall seemed to have re-discovered his shirtlessness because he had his arms crossed tightly over his chest, shivering violently. Zayn had taken off his wig and was wrapping it around Niall's neck like a scarf in a pathetic attempt to warm him. Louis had pushed Harry back against the nearest wall and they were making out again. Liam really just wanted to go home. 

When the Uber cab arrived it was a little red Toyota Corolla. The driver wouldn't let them all get into the car. 

“I've only got four seats!” he said, angrily. 

“Oh, come _on,”_ said Liam. “We'll all fit, it's a like ten minute drive!” 

“Four passengers!” the driver insisted. 

“Ugggghh,” Liam growled. Niall with no shirt; Zayn with no shoes; in a minute Harry and Louis would have no pants... he did not want any one of them wait out here alone. He made a quick decision. Niall was turning blue, so Liam steered him into the front seat. He pushed Harry and Louis into the back. They fell into the car in a tangle of limbs. (“Going to fuck you all night,” Louis was muttering. “Going to cuff you to the bed and fuck you til morning...” “Louis,” Harry whimpered. _“Louis...”_ ) Liam ignored them, giving the driver the address in a LOUD and CLEAR voice. He wanted to add something like _Could you please wait to make sure they all get into the house safely?_ But the driver was glaring into the back seat of his car with obvious irritation so Liam just shut the door and waved him off. 

Liam and Zayn were left alone on the curb. Liam stood fretting as he watched the tail lights of the Corolla round a corner and disappear from sight, until he remembered he needed to call another cab for himself and Zayn. He charged it to Niall's account, trying not to think about how expensive this evening was turning out to be. 

“Liam-” said Zayn urgently. Liam looked over at him and instantly had something else to worry about. 

“Liam- I think I'm going to be sick...” Zayn looked terrible. There was sweat standing out on his forehead despite the frigid air, and all the laughter seem to have caught up with his stomach. He was clutching his sides, looking pained. 

“Shit,” said Liam. “Ah...” he pulled Zayn over to the edge of the street just in time. Zayn collapsed to his knees and threw up in the gutter. Liam pulled the purse to safety behind his back and held Zayn's shoulders until he stopped retching. Zayn wiped face on his shirtsleeve, spitting to try and get the taste out of his mouth. Liam wished he had a bottle of water, or anything, to offer Zayn- but he had nothing. 

Liam and Zayn stayed there, kneeling by the side of the road, until their cab came. This one was a minivan. Typical. 

Liam helped Zayn onto the bench seat in the middle and sat beside him. Zayn leaned away from Liam to press his check against the cold window. Liam was left unsure of whether Zayn needed space or support. They both smelled like sweat and alcohol and a little bit like puke. Zayn was sort of huddling against the side of the car, but Liam stayed beside him anyway, just in case. They were silent throughout the short drive, but Liam didn't think this was a statement on Zayn's part. Zayn had his eyes closed and he winced with every acceleration or deceleration of the car. 

The Uber driver dropped them off just up the street from the apartment. Zayn's relief at getting out of the van was palpable- he was probably still feeling nauseous. As they walked passed Liam's parked car something tucked under one of the windshield wiper blades caught his eye. A white slip of paper like a receipt. San Francisco Municipal Transport Agency logo at the top.

“Ohhhhh.... goddammit,” said Liam tiredly. He stopped and pulled it out to look. Yeah... it was a parking ticket. Seventy five dollars, just what he needed right now. He glanced up at the sign, which he had clearly not looked at closely enough before. No parking between 12am and 6am on Saturdays. He'd forgotten about the _street sweeping._ Fucking hell. 

“What?” said Zayn. He'd barely stopped. He was looking back, too weary to be really curious. 

“Ticket,” said Liam shortly. He tucked it back under the windshield wiper blade. If he took it with him they might give him second one, so he left it there. _This night just keeps getting better and better,_ he thought sarcastically. 

When Liam and Zayn reached the front door of the Pine street apartment, there was a narrow beam of light cutting across the doormat. Not only had Harry, Louis, and Niall _failed_ to lock the front door behind them- they hadn't even PUSHED THE DOOR CLOSED ALL THE WAY. It was just fucking STANDING OPEN, like three whole inches. _What the fuck,_ thought Liam angrily. This was _not_ how you looked after yourself when living in a major city. Liam kind of hated all of his friends right now. Louis was the oldest- why couldn't he have been the responsible one? Why was it always Liam who had to pay the bill and call the cab and _lock the fucking door?_ After he and Zayn had got inside Liam slammed it behind them and slot the deadbolt. Not that hard, morons. 

Zayn went straight for the bathroom and Liam checked to make sure nothing else was drastically amiss. Plenty of noise coming from Harry's room- he and Louis had obviously made it home alright. Liam stuck his head into the living room. There was a lump under a sleeping bag on the sofa, blond head at one end and bare feet at the other, so Niall was alright too. That was something, Liam supposed. He wanted to get out of his itchy cheap costume. He dug through the clean clothes left in the washer/drier of the tiny laundry room until he found a pair of his own sweatpants and a t-shirt. He left his costume there in a heap on the floor. Then he filled a tall glass with water, took a deep breath, and went to check on Zayn. 

The desk lamp was on in Zayn's room, casting a dim glow over the piles of clothes and comics on the floor. Zayn himself was sitting on the edge of his bed, leaning over with his folded arms resting on his knees, staring at the floor between his feet. The small trash can from the bathroom was sitting beside him, and he seemed to be contemplating whether or not he was going to need it. 

“Hey,” said Liam. 

“Nnn,” grunted Zayn. 

“Think you can manage some water?” Liam asked, holding it out. 

“I guess,” said Zayn. He'd tried to wash the makeup off his face but hadn't done a very good job- the dark smears left around his eyes made him look like a trashed party girl. He took the glass of water and drank half before setting it aside on the desk. Zayn never got pale, exactly, but he definitely still looked sweaty and ill. 

“Are you going to throw up again?” Liam asked. 

“Unnh. Probably not,” said Zayn. 

There was a pause. Liam wondered if he should just leave Zayn alone now. He wondered if they were ever going to talk about that kiss. Zayn seemed to have entirely forgotten about it. Liam wished he knew how drunk Zayn had been, exactly, when it happened. Was it something he'd planned earlier, or had it been completely spur of the moment? Now did not seem like the right time to ask, though. Zayn had picked up the glass of water without enthusiasm and was slowly finishing it. Liam decided he was not going to bring it up tonight unless Zayn brought it up first. Maybe... maybe Liam would ask about it tomorrow. If Zayn wasn't too hung over in the morning. 

“Can you help me get my tights off?” asked Zayn. Liam looked down sharply to see Zayn pointing his left foot at Liam. “Just like, tug on the feet? I got vertigo when I tried...” 

Ah. Liam hunkered down on the floor and plucked at the feet of the tights until he could pull on them. Zayn had ripped holes in the bottoms of both from walking around with no shoes on. Zayn flopped backward and sort of shimmed so that Liam could pull them off entirely. Liam received an unexpected and rather startling view up Zayn's skirt. He stood up quickly. 

“I'll get you more water,” said Liam a bit at random, grabbing the water glass and turning away. God, it was like this whole night was a trap specifically designed to do his head in. Liam stood for a long moment in the dark kitchen with the water glass in his hand, wondering if he should even go back. He shook himself and walked into Zayn's room, trying to figure out when he had turned into such a coward. 

Zayn had gotten his shirt off but he needed help with the bra again. Liam hissed a little when it came off leaving a red imprinted line all the way across his back. 

“This didn't fit at all,” said Liam. He kind of wanted to rub his fingers across the mark, smooth it down, sooth it away. He resisted. “Didn't this hurt?” 

“After I'd had a few I pretty much forgot about it,” said Zayn. He chucked the bra into the trash and let himself fall backward again, feet dangling off the side of the bed, hands going to up cover his face. He was now wearing nothing but the black pencil skirt and Harry's very small underwear. Liam, who was sitting on the end of the bed, tried not to stare. 

“I feel like _shit,”_ said Zayn, succinctly. Then, with some hesitation, he asked, “Do you think I was drugged...?” 

“No,” said Liam. He didn't, but even if he had he wouldn't have said so right now. Zayn didn't need a paranoid fear to add to his list of complaints. “I think you only ate half your dinner and then drank too much.” 

“I'm never going to drink again,” groaned Zayn, which was categorically untrue, but Liam knew what he meant. 

“Try to drink the rest of that water,” said Liam.

“I'll try,” said Zayn, making absolutely no move to do so. “I just need to... sleep...” 

“I'll be in the living room if you need anything,” said Liam. He left the room, closing the door behind him. Niall had not folded out the couch before falling asleep on it. Moving it, and him, and the goddamned coffee table sounded like way too much work right now. Liam sank into the small armchair stuffed into the corner, and let his head fall back. He carefully did not think about Zayn, or anything that had happened this evening. It was not very comfortable, but he was so tired it hardly mattered. In a few minutes, he was asleep.

  
***  


Liam's feet were very cold and his neck was very stiff when he woke up. He was not hung over but he had a scratchiness in the back of his throat that felt like the beginning of a cold.

He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth, something he had not bothered with the previous evening. In the mirror his eyes looked bloodshot and his face scruffy and pale. 

Niall was still snoring a little on the sofa as Liam wandered into the kitchen. Niall looked much more comfortable than he had been all night, Liam thought grumpily. He poked around in the cupboards until he found a bottle of vitamin C pills then located a clean glass. He was rummaging around in the fridge when he heard a sound from the hall- Harry's door had opened and Harry himself slipped out and into the bathroom. 

Liam sat at the kitchen island and took the vitamin with a glass of orange juice as an extra measure. Predictably, his mind wandered back to the kiss. It was weird to think about in the gray light of morning. Zayn, who had kissed him, was sleeping less than twenty feet away in his room. But what had he meant by it? Zayn could be so baffling; Liam was starting to think maybe he wouldn't bring it up at all unless Zayn brought it up first. 

Harry sauntered into the kitchen. He was wearing nothing but black briefs and an enormously pleased expression. Evidence of a good time could be seen in the marks left on his neck and shoulders. Liam raised his eyebrows. 

“Well, don't you look smug,” Liam commented dryly. 

“Yes, well,” said Harry. He stretched his arms above his head, cracking his spine. There were something like bite marks, or possibly bruises, on the inside of Harry's thighs, and Liam would rather not have see them. Harry leaned his elbows on the counter and gave Liam a slow smile. “Think we had a bit of a breakthrough last night, if you know what I mean,” he said lazily. 

“The handcuffs?” Liam asked. 

“The handcuffs,” Harry confirmed. 

“Please never tell me anything more, ever,” said Liam. 

“Alright,” Harry lied cheerfully. He reached out to try and steal Liam's glass. 

“Don't, I think I'm getting sick,” said Liam quickly. 

Harry made a face and went to get his own orange juice. It was impossible not to notice his ass as he leaned over to look into the fridge, but the thought that crossed Liam's mind was _yes, but how would Zayn look wearing those...?_ This sent him right back to last night- god, he'd basically undressed Zayn, or helped to anyway, as his request... it was probably the most intimate, but least passionate, Liam had ever been when taking someone's clothes off. Something of this thought must have showed on his face because Harry quirked an eyebrow at him. Liam looked hastily away, distracting himself by picking up his phone from where he'd dropped it last night on the counter. But when he picked it up it was Niall's phone in his hand. Liam frowned, an uneasy feeling prickling his insides. 

“What's up?” asked Harry. 

Liam didn't respond. He felt in the pockets of his sweatpants- no, they were empty. He glanced over towards the armchair- no- he stood abruptly and went to the laundry room, his heart pounding. No no no no no. Liam picked up the bottom of his magician's costume from the floor, but even as he did he remembered- _it had no pockets._

“Ohhhhhhhhh shit,” said Liam. The implications of this were coming to him fast and merciless. 

“Liam, what is it?” asked Harry.

“I left- I left my phone and... and my keys and my wallet,” said Liam. He was staring, unseeing, out of the small laundry room window. “I left them at the bar last night.” 

“What? How?” Harry sounded disbelieving. 

“I left all my stuff in the pockets of my jeans,” said Liam, remembering everything now. God, how had he been so _stupid!_

“They were in that bag of clothes... under the table. None of us brought it home last night.” _How? How had he forgotten it?_

“Are you sure?” asked Harry. 

Liam gave him a disgusted look. Was he sure? Of course he was sure. Harry and Louis certainly hadn't been carrying it. Niall hadn't been carrying it. Zayn had not been carrying it. And he, Liam, who should have remembered, had not been carrying it. Why? Because he'd been too busy looking after everyone else. 

“It's still there,” said Liam. But a more horrible thought was coming to him. “Unless... unless someone took it...” The costume trousers fell from his hand, unnoticed. 

“Liam,” said Harry firmly. He marched forward and pulled Liam to one of the kitchen stools, making Liam sit down on it. “Liam, do not freak out. We'll call them right now and ask.” 

He picked up Niall's phone, pulled up the number and called. Liam watched him, his chest tight. One bare knee jiggled impatiently. One bare foot tapped against the floor. The phone rang and rang and rang. 

“They might not be open yet,” said Harry apologetically. He threw a glance at the clock. “It's only just past nine...” 

“What time do they open?” Liam asked a bit desperately. “On Saturdays?” 

Harry bent over the phone again. “Not til eleven.” 

The buses didn't run as frequently on weekends- and Liam would have to take the bus, since he didn't have his keys. If he left now, he could be there before they opened. He stood up. 

“I'm going,” said Liam. “I'm going now.” 

“I'll come with you,” said Harry at once. “Just- just let me put something on.” He disappeared back into his bedroom. 

Liam went into the laundry to dig for more clothes. All of their wardrobes were starting to blend together since they all did their laundry here. He pulled out a pair of socks that were probably Louis's, and a sweatshirt that was definitely Niall's. The t-shirt he'd put on last night without looking was actually Zayn's, but it hardly mattered. As an after thought he picked up a jewel-tone blue beanie of Harry's and pulled it on. Hopefully people on the bus would look at the hat and not his face. 

Harry came out, wearing skinny jeans and a button up and a scarf, making Liam feel like even more of a slob by comparison. They were out of the house by 9:30, walking quickly down towards the bus stop. Liam reached instinctively for his wallet, and had yet another nasty jolt when he remembered he didn't have it. Harry paid for his fare. The bus felt empty and lifeless, devoid of the colorful passengers of the previous evening, and it smelled faintly of old piss. Liam was very glad to get off. Castro itself was clean- _Street sweepers,_ thought Liam darkly- but some of the smaller side streets off it still showed the debris of last night's street wide block-party. Liam saw empty bottles and red plastic cups scattered in the gutters. A silver high heeled shoe. A pair of neon green shorts. They passed a shop whose front window had been broken- there was yellow caution tape strung across it and a gritty crunching of glass on the sidewalk. When they reach the Chameleon its flashing sign and windows were still dark. Liam cupped his hands against the glass, peering inside to try and spot any sign of movement. It was still and empty. 

Harry checked his phone. “It's not even half ten yet.” 

Liam had walked to the far end of the bar's window, trying to get the right angle to see under the tables in the booths, but there were too many other tables in the way. 

“Should we... do you want to go wait in a Starbucks or something?” Harry suggested, a little tentatively. 

Liam honestly kind of wanted to sit on the curb and wait until someone showed up who could let them in, but he realized that was stupid. “Alright,” he said. 

Harry lead the way back to a Starbucks they had passed less than a block earlier. The smell inside was comforting and warm. Fall leaves and other autumnal decorations were much in evidence. 

“Let me get you something,” said Harry. “What do you want?”

Liam, about to protest, remembered that _of course_ he couldn't get anything for himself, because he did not have his wallet. Ugghhh. 

“Just coffee,” said Liam, tiredly. 

“Sit down,” Harry ordered. “I'll get it.” He headed off to join the Saturday mid-morning queue and Liam dropped listlessly into an armchair by the window. _Please god let the bag still be under the table._ If it wasn't... but Liam wasn't letting himself think of that yet.

Harry came back with a pumpkin spice latte and muffin for himself, and a grande black coffee with sugar and cream for Liam, plus a cheese Danish, which was not really want Liam had meant. He had not wanted Harry to spend money on him that he was currently unable to repay. But he knew Harry had gotten them out of kindness and he'd be a dick to be ungrateful, so he just accepted them with a nod. He was hungry. 

“So,” said Harry when Liam had finished his Danish and sat back with his coffee between his hands. “You and Zayn last night. Was that planned?” Harry grinned, nudging a little at the toe of Liam's sneaker with his Chelsea boot. “Dramatic movie kiss on stage? You looked a little surprised...?” 

“Uh... yeah, I was a little surprised,” said Liam carefully. Understatement of the year. 

“Anything else happen that I should know about...?” Harry asked, wiggling his eyebrows so Liam couldn't possibly miss his meaning. 

“No,” said Liam. That made it sound like he hadn't wanted anything to happen though, or that it had been a conscious decision that nothing would happen. “Zayn got sick,” he clarified. “Threw up after you guys headed home.” 

“Ah.”

Liam was taken back to the dark car ride, to his parking ticket, and the open front door... if the apartment had been locked (LIKE IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN) he would have reached for his keys and noticed their absence sooner... 

“D'you you want to talk about it?” Harry asked. Liam knew he meant Zayn. Harry clearly wanted to talk about it. 

“Umm- not really,” said Liam. He could feel the way his mind kept returning to the subject, replaying it, turning it around to see it from different angles- this was the beginning of a crush, just as surely as his scratchy throat was the beginning of a cold. It was both enticing and irritating. It could be the start of something that sounded pretty tempting- but it made things complicated. Being friends with Zayn was easy and good. Liam had a feeling that a crush- or even a relationship- would be less easy. 

“Alright,” said Harry. “But I can keep my mouth shut, you know- if you want to speak in confidence.”

“I know,” said Liam. “I'm just- I'm trying to just worry about one thing at a time.” He jerked his chin back in the direction of Chameleon. 

Harry nodded. They drank their coffee in a companionable quiet for a new minutes, with Liam glanced up at the clock approximately every thirty eight seconds. Harry got a text that made him smile, and he sent something back. Probably from Louis. Liam wondered if Zayn would try to text him. But no, Zayn was definitely still asleep. Harry got a second text, and this one made him laugh out loud. 

“Is it Louis?” Liam asked.

“Do you really want to know?” Harry asked, with a smirk.

“Yes?” said Liam. Really, he just wanted a distraction. Any kind of distraction. 

“Louis just texted me that 'little Lou misses you'- ” Harry started.

“Actually never mind, don't tell me,” Liam said quickly. Clearly, _any kind_ had been too broad of a category. “I really hope there's not a photo attached.” 

As if Liam's comment had summed it, a photo arrived on Harry's phone with a ding. Harry chuckled and bit his bottom lip. Liam exhaled forcefully.

“Sure you don't want to hear about the handcuffs...?” Harry asked.

“Very sure,” Liam assured him. 

“Fine,” said Harry. “Your loss...” 

Liam glanced up at the clock. 10:51. It would take at least a few minutes to walk back. Liam finished his coffee and stood up. Harry jumped up at once, pushing his phone back into his pocket. 

“I'm sure it will be there,” said Harry bracingly as they reached the bar. 

But it wasn't. 

The guy who let them in was the same guy who had cleaned up after closing the night before. He didn't remember any bags left under any booth tables. They checked the bathrooms, the pool room, the patio, the lost and found. Nothing. 

“Oh god,” said Liam. 

“Breathe, Liam,” said Harry, his eyes widening at Liam's pallor. 

“Oh my god,” said Liam. His life was kind of flashing in front of his eyes right now. 

“Breathe!” said Harry. 

Liam tried. He took carefully deep breaths as Harry steered him out of the bar and up the street. The bus was just pulling in as they got there- Harry had to pay his fare, again. Liam had planned to get them on the way home, to pay Harry back... he collapsed into a seat. Gone. All of it. _How had he let this happen._

Liam folded his arms across his stomach and closed his eyes, to start categorizing everything he had lost. His Directions student ID. His Benedictine student ID. His Clipper card. Some cash, but far worse, his debit card. His California driver's license. His UK driver's license. He knew it was stupid to carry that around here in the States but it had been like a little piece of home in his pocket... and, as if to add insult to injury, they had been his favorite jeans in that bag... Plus, of course, his phone and his car keys. Liam thought suddenly of his car, which had now been sitting for close to four hours in a two hour spot, with one ticket on it already. God, what was he going to do, he couldn't move it- should he have it towed somewhere? If he left it there someone would come along and steal his hubcaps. Or jack it up and take the tires. Liam dropped his head into his hands with a moan. 

Harry almost always stood on buses, even when there were seats, but he dropped now into the seat beside Liam. 

“Talk to me,” said Harry. 

“Auuhhh,” said Liam. He did not lift up his head. “I'm just trying to figure out- what I need to do first. Call the bank, I guess, and tell them to deactivate my card. Call my parents and tell them what happened.” He sighed bleakly. 

“I'm going to have to get new IDs for every thing, and apply for a new driver's license- but how will I pay for it?” asked Liam. He kneaded the heels of his hands against his forehead, and the headache forming there. “And I keep thinking of all this stupid shit like, how will I print out my papers for school without my Ben card? I won't be able to access my meal plan either, so every time I want to eat in the cafeteria I'll have to write them a bloody check for six dollars... but what if someone has already cleaned out my account...?” Liam broke off, his voice rising a little in panic. The bus lurched and the pee smell was worse than ever. He remembered Zayn puking in the gutter and wondered if he would soon be following that example. 

“Liam, it will be alright,” Harry reassured. 

“What am I going to do with my _car?”_ Liam asked miserably. 

“You can get replacement keys made,” said Harry, firmly. “This is not the end of the world, Li, we'll sort this out. I'll help you.” 

“But that could cost...” Liam actually had no idea how much that would cost. “Like, a few hundred dollars or... or something.” 

“Liam, I'll help you,” Harry insisted. “We all will. Christ, we can lend you some money, I know you'll get it back eventually. You look after us _all the time,_ Liam. We'll all look after you. You can stay in the apartment as long as you want, I'll get you food or whatever you need. We'll get through this.” 

“I can't just ask you for like- like four hundred dollars, Harry!” said Liam. He didn't doubt that Harry would feed him and buy him a bus ticket back to San Rafael at the end of the weekend and all that, but replacing all his shit and dealing with the car- _and the fucking ticket-_ was going to add up fast. 

“No, but you could ask for one hundred each from me, Niall, Louis and Zayn,” said Harry reasonably. “We could all manage that.” 

Zayn... oh god he had been so busy worrying about his own stuff... Liam couldn't believe he'd forgotten- _Zayn's costume hadn't had any pockets either._ Shit. 

“What?” said Harry, looking alarmed at Liam's expression. 

“Zayn's wallet was in that bag too,” said Liam, gloomily. What a thing to have to tell him right after he woke up... 

“Ahh,” said Harry. He sighed. “We'll get you through, Liam. You and Zayn.” 

Liam knew that Zayn could not, in all fairness, blame him for the loss of their stuff when either of them- or really both of them- should have remembered it. But it felt like his fault, and he did not want to see Zayn's face when he got the news. It felt like- this was so stupid- it felt like it would hurt his chances with Zayn... but that was such an idiotic thing to even consider. Liam shook his head, weary with himself. If he could just forget about this whole Halloween, and never talk about it again, that would be great. Probably impossible, but great. 

The bus dropped them off at the bottom of the hill and Harry and Liam trudged up Pine Street towards the apartment, not talking much. 

“I'm going to check on my car,” said Liam, when Harry stopped to turn towards their front door. He jogged up the extra hundred feet. Sure enough, there was a second white slip tucked under the windshield wiper beside the first. Another ticket. Liam wanted to cry. He pulled them both out with shaky hands and carried them back down to where Harry had waited for him. Harry took one look at Liam's face and gave him a hug. It helped a little. But not that much. 

They headed inside together. Liam smelled food and coffee coming from the kitchen, and he heard the shower running in the bathroom. Niall was standing at the stove wearing an apron over a t-shirt and boxers, frying eggs. Louis was sitting at the kitchen island with a cup of coffee doing jack shit. Must be Zayn in the shower then. Louis looked up as they came in. 

“No luck?” said Louis. Harry had obvious been keeping him informed via text. 

“No luck,” said Liam, heavily. He dropped onto one of the stools. 

“What's up?” said Niall. Apparently Louis hadn't continued the chain of communication. He often didn't. He could be remarkably selfish that way. 

“Me and Zayn's wallets, and phones, and my car keys got left at the bar last night and stolen,” said Liam. He seemed to have passed through denial, anger, and bargaining and had settled somewhere between depression and acceptance. He felt kind of numb, actually. 

“Shit, really?” said Niall, staring at him. 

“Really,” said Liam. 

“Shit,” Niall said again, and turned back to the stove. 

Harry walked over to Louis and stole the cup right out of his hand and drank his coffee. Louis raised his eyebrows as if to say _Is that how it is now?_ and Harry raised his chin, smirking. _What are you going to do about it?_

“M'hmm,” said Louis. “We'll see about that later.” 

Liam sat with his head propped in both hands, ignoring them. He stared out of the window. At some point it had gotten sunny without his noticing, and the kitchen was full of warm light and good smells, completely at odds with his mood. The sound of the shower shut off in the bathroom. 

“D'you want some eggs?” asked Niall. “I made enough for everyone. Harry? Lou?” 

“Not right now,” said Liam, listlessly. 

“Yeah, I'll take some,” said Louis. 

“Thanks,” said Harry. 

Niall got out some plates. Zayn came drifting into the kitchen smelling like shampoo and wearing only a towel. Liam wasn't even able to enjoy the view. 

“D'you want some eggs, Zayn?” Niall asked, over his shoulder. 

“Alright,” said Zayn. He turned to Liam. “Why are you so down? Where were you this morning?” 

Liam looked up at him miserably. “We didn't bring that bag back last night,” said Liam. “That bag with all our clothes and- and our stuff.” He swallowed. “Harry and I went back down to Chameleon this morning but it wasn't there. It got stolen.” 

“Oh,” Zayn said. “Oh... that's right.” He pondered this for a moment.

“My shoes...” said Zayn. Liam thought this a rather strange thing to worry about, all things considered. 

“Also- our wallets. And our phones. And my car keys,” said Liam, grimacing even as he said it. 

“No, I have those,” said Zayn. “They're in my purse.” 

“What?” said Liam. 

“What?” said Harry

“Your purse?” said Louis. 

“Just a second,” said Zayn and he went into his room. He came back with the cheap black purse, the one he had bought at Out of the Closet the day before. When he reached the kitchen island he turned it over and shook it. Out fell Liam's phone, then his wallet, then Zayn's phone and his wallet and lastly Liam's car keys and the tube of red lipstick. Liam stared at the small pile, completely flabbergasted. 

“How- did- _when--?”_ Liam was clearly experiencing some symptoms of shock, because he was apparently no longer capable of forming a complete sentence. Or even half a sentence. 

“After we were on stage,” Zayn glanced at Liam a bit sidelong, then away. “When I went back to the table I thought maybe it would be better not to leave this stuff in the bag, since none of us were keeping an eye on it. I went through our pockets and stuck everything in the purse.” 

“You sound like such a girl right now,” said Louis. 

“He sounds like a genius,” said Harry. 

“This is amazing- you are amazing,” said Liam, heartfelt. He was thumbing through his wallet, everything, even the cash, was there. Both his licenses... all his IDs... his debit card. His relief would probably be tinged by embarrassment later over all the worry and fuss but right now he was just grateful. Zayn smiled a little. 

“Yes,” said Liam. “Now I can pay my parking tickets!” 

Louis snorted, and Niall started laughing. 

“That's the first thing you think of?” said Niall. _“Yay all my shit's not been stolen- now I'll pay the parking tickets?”_

“It's been weighting on me,” said Liam defensively. 

“Law-abiding Liam,” said Harry, fondly. 

“Guess it's a good thing I bought this,” Zayn mused, picking the black bag up by the strap. 

It certainly was. Zayn never again saw either of the two pairs of shoes he had taken with him into the bar the night before. And Liam never did get his favorite pair of jeans back. But he was able to pay his parking tickets and sometimes that is enough to count as a victory.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, I had fun writing as many real places as possible into this story. Mission Comics is a real shop, located at 3520 20th Street, San Francisco. Out of the Closet and Leather, Etc are also real stores that can be found on Folsom Street. Castro Street is indeed the most famous gay neighborhood and is well known for it's wild Halloween parties. The Chameleon, however, I invented. 
> 
> This story is the third in a series that will have at least six to eight parts (it keeps growing...) While writing it I started a tumblr to collect reference/research images of San Francisco, modern dancers and the boys. You can find that here: [akikotree on tumblr](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/). I recently posted a floor plan of the Harry and Zayn's [apartment](http://akikotree.tumblr.com/post/105248037501/i-designed-a-floor-plan-for-harry-and-zayns) there.
> 
> Thank you to [takeintoaccount](http://archiveofourown.org/users/takeintoaccount/works) and [mybeanieandme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/works) who both acted as betas for this story. [mybeanieandme](http://archiveofourown.org/users/mybeanieandme/works) actually wrote a few lines of the dialogue... I wonder if anyone would be able to guess which lines?


End file.
